Waiting For Hope.
Small, delicate, pure little fingers wrapped around mine. Dark brown innocence entwined with golden tanned skin, made ever so white in contrast. Did this beautiful boy have any inkling of the twist his life was about to take? Or was this just reality here in the amazingly rich landscape of inspiration and personal sorrow?
My trip to Uganda began with the intention of lending my experience and limited knowledge of the business world to the rural communities of this wondrously breathtaking country. The adventure turned out to be so much more. Rather than me lending my skills and experience, I was given a renewed sense of humanity and the harsh reality of the 'third world' that passes as easily down here as the breeze. A little hand in mine represented so much more than I could ever begin to adequately describe.
Waiting in the Kampala hospital with two children ages 8 and 11; waiting for, potentially, the most dreadful of results. His hand in mine, innocence and hope in his eyes; agonizingly we waited. At the sweet age of 25, when many are enjoying the most precious years of their lives, Frankie’s mother was waiting to find out if her HIV had been passed down to her children. Pinpointing when she might have contracted the disease is nearly impossible, so we waited. Three, then four hours pass. Feigning playfulness and smiles is exhausting, with the knots in my stomach palpable. Killing me slowly.
If relief is what I felt, then relief is like stepping out of the shadows, immersed in sunlight; radiant with joy as it washed over me slowly head to toe. Euphoria. I can only hope that it continued through our entwined hands and washed equally over Frankie in our moment of solace.
A bond was forged that day; one that transcended interlocked hands. A bond between my soul and the people of Uganda, a bond between my very essence and the entire continent of Africa. Frankie opened my eyes with the touch of his hand and revealed to me a greater purpose. Small, delicate, pure little fingers wrapped around mine. Waiting for opportunity, waiting for a chance, receiving hope.My Story: Holding Hands