sorry, this is super long. but it's my heart lately. my struggle. my outpouring ...
there is so much going on. so much ... brewing inside me. tumbling around, so much searching. so much processing.

there have been so many people that have fed me since i have been here. who have challenged me. who have matched my heart and my dreams. at times, i am so overwhelmed, and not always in a bad way.

two of our friends from invisible children are setting out to a dangerous country. they are buying a one-way ticket to this country, still don't know how they are going to get in, and they are going under a cover that they have yet to develop. and they are leaving in exactly two weeks time.
a mutual friend of invisible children is in the congo. he is living through the peace process there. witnessing hopefully a change to history. he is literally giving child soldiers back their lives. or, to put it better, giving them lives they may never have had unless he and his friends were there. he is being put to the test, being challenged, and he is frustrated beyond belief because of the injustices that are taking place there. but because of it, he is doing more.

our national tour sets out in two weeks. two weeks exactly. i don't know if i can put into words how i am feeling right now. there is something ... something afoot in this world.

something is happening.
something is moving.
we are moving.

i feel ... i feel like we are on the verge of a revolution. truly, really, honestly, and literally on the verge of it. perhaps we are going to really find out what a revolution is. i have been feeling it, my friends have been feeling it, my boss has been feeling it, and we are witnessing it in this far-off land and in the congo. and in northern uganda.

i feel like i have suddenly awoken to the world. not just now, no, not at all. but in the past few months, the gravity of the world has finally weighed me down. situations have suddenly broken through reality, and i have finally begun to understand how serious, grave, and dark the world can be. i think i had been treating everything as a story. something that i "believed" to be true, fought for, pleaded for, but closed myself to the possibility of the world being this ... bad. does that make sense? i hate even saying that. i have always prided myself in seeing the beauty in what is sometimes not seen as beautiful. i have always said i would have joy in all situations. i have always ...

but to be honest, it has been more of a struggle for me the past few months. laughing, which comes so very easy for me, seems more hollow. i am forced to remember the grave. and i am struggling to see the light. not that i am depressed, but i think i am finally understanding that shit does happen.

i should have known that by now. maybe because i have witnessed so much pain in my family, through deaths, betrayal, sadness, sickness, anger, bitterness, and misplaced emtions, i have learned to block it out. but you would think that i would come to recognize it more clearly. i don't know. i analyze everything.

but here, lately, i have seen sin's sad effect on the world. the brokenness that is apparent in everyone, in every situation, in every country of the world. sometimes it is more apparent than others, and sometimes it is more scary than others.

in the congo, for instance, it is obvious. but not seen by the world. years of war, years of death, over five million people dead. did you hear that? five. million. people.

in uganda, a war that has raged for twenty-one years. children made child soldiers. prejudice that has existed for hundreds of years. resentment. death. a conflict that just weeks ago we all had hope for ending. but in less than a week's time ... could start right back at the beginning. i am just starting to digest that.

in eastern countries, millions of people living in fear, living in solitude. living as prisoners in their own country. brainwashed, frightened, and not seeing a hope for the future.

those are three stories. three stories that are the broad stories of millions of people's lives. and then there are the details of their lives. and then there are hundreds, thousands, millions of things that have gone unseen.

so there has been what has been getting me down the past few ... months, really.

but as i said. i feel it.
revolution.

i get tingles thinking about it. i fell asleep dreaming about it last night. we tell stories of what is beginning it to inspire each other.

in congo, sean is bringing hope. his friend is starting rehabilitation with child soldiers there. peace is coming. we can only hope and pray.

in uganda, education is being brought to the beautiful people there. an economy is being created. people are being freed and fed. they are sustaining themselves. and although peace may fall through, invisible children is there. other organizations are there. life will come.
and in those eastern countries, i know two amazing people that are going. we are rallying behind them as a community, and dear Lord, if they can't bring change, i don't know who can. it's going to be one hell of a challenge, but it's time.

it's time.

it's time to step up to the challenge. greet that feeling of revolution with an embrace. welcome it. welcome the challenges.

we have waiting in darkness for far too long.
we have settled with the horrible when we never should have.
it's our turn to change this world.

as my friend sean says, "i think maybe it’s time for smoky corners to be exposed in this lush hell. it’s a question needing to be asked of our own culture as well - if no one knows what is real, how can we move forward? let's find out what is real. what is true. this mission is only beginning. and i'm sure i'll ask The Question many, many times before it ends." (the question referring to 'why am i here?')

let's expose these corners. let's go to the places where we are forced to ask, why the hell am i here. but then let's remember that this life ... this life is not about me.

go.
go now.
www.congocast.org
www.invisiblechildren.com

life is too precious to let it go.
forget yourself and ... go.

i love you.
k.