First Steps

 Walking, stumbling on these shadowfeet

Towards home, a land that I've never seen

I am changing; less and less asleep

Made of different stuff than when I began

And I have sensed it all along

Fast approaching is the day

                                                                                     

                                                                                       - Brooke Fraser

Fresh out of highschool and hungry for adventure, my sister Jessica and I packed our bags and boarded a plane to Johannesburg, South Africa. Our destination? TLC Ministries, a home for orphaned and abandoned babies operated by Thea Jarvis and her family. Jess and I were young, had time on our hands and a burning in our bellies to do something noble. I wanted not just to visit, but to live somewhere new, to be under unfamiliar skies, and to have an experience not yet attempted by an older sibling. My large family was well-known in the small town where I had grown up and many times I had longed to be known as Stephanie, just Stephanie. This was my chance to shed all associations with my last name and simply be Stephanie, a girl from Canada who was here to help. As that plane took off, in my naiveté, I thought I was on my way to change the world. As is most often the case, it was me that was about to be changed.

Most of my five months in The Rainbow Nation was spent on a farm property just outside of Johannesburg, serving with an international team of volunteers, caring for up to 35 babies each day. Our days were a whirlwind of activity involving feeding, changing, bathing, cuddling and soothing peppercorn haired, milk-chocolately skinned, squishy nosed babies. During our 'time off', Jess and I hung out with the pre-schoolers, being turned into a human jungle gyms for the little squirmers desperate to show us how high they could jump on the trampoline, how fast they could swoosh (often face first) down the slides, and how loudly they could sing their sassy Zulu songs about staying away from strangers (all the while swiveling their hips seductively, which was hilarious, because, well, they were four years old).

One unusually quiet afternoon in the nursery, little Favian, (one of my favourites) who had been on the verge of figuring out how to walk for weeks, seemed like he was ready to give it another go. With most of the babies sleeping, the volunteers were free to experience the moment together. I cannot stress enough the anticipation in that room. Imagine the combined excitement of 12 mothers all in love with the same little boy and you'll begin to get the idea. Favian was in the centre ring. Surrounding him were ladies from Holland, Belgium, Canada, the United Arab Emirates, Germany and Austria. The eyes of the world, literally, were on him. "'C'mon Favian, you can do it!" We took turns offering him encouraging words and smiles. He sat on the floor, smiling at each of us in turn with growing confidence. Slowly, he pushed himself up into a crawling stance. The room fell silent. With great concentration and huge effort, little Favian struggled to his feet, picked up one of his little feet and... step! He did it! The room exploded with cheering and applause! The poor little guy was so startled by the commotion his accomplishment had caused that he immediately toppled over. Little Favian, our little Favian had taken his first step! Never in my nineteen years had I experienced such a proud moment.

Over the last few days I have been reminded of Favian's first step because, I must confess, the Joy Project has started a little less flashy than I had hoped. Part of me felt like day one should be marked by some grandiose undertaking, like baking all my neighbours squishy chocolate chip cookies. But as the morning wore on, my accomplishments had amounted to eating a bowl of Cheerios and feeding, changing, and dressing Sophie. I decided that baking for the entire neighbourhood was perhaps something to work towards. I decided I would let my first attempts at Joy be small changes, first steps, if you will, that would fit easily into my day. Like little Favian's first attempt at walking, my initial undertakings are certainly not worthy of Olympic medals, but can most certainly be celebrated.

So, with that in mind, this is what I tried differently the last few days. 

For the first time in months, I sang in the shower, just for me. This felt strange as my bathroom singing as of late has largely consisted of Raffi's "Baby Beluga" and the Elephant Show theme song - half-attempts at pacifying a disgruntled baby who thinks that because she can't see her mum, her mum no longer exists. Sophie's Nana spent the day with us to get in her Sophie cuddles, so I was able to have a delicious sleep. Kyle and I had a romantic date to Walmart (Haha...Yes, this is what our dates have come to. We're embracing it.) In the evening when my mum had headed home, and Sophie had a full tummy of sweet potatoes and milk, I strapped the little lady into her Baby Bjorn and headed out during Magic Hour to explore the neighbourhood. On Saturday Kyle and I dressed up and attended a 1920's themed Murder Mystery birthday party for a friend. Sunday brought more walks, an impromptu dance party with Sophie and Kyle in the music room, and enjoying the sound of the wind in the trees and the crickets in the field as I hung laundry on the line. Small steps, yes, but noteworthy none-the-less.  

Over the next while, as I make further attempts at Joy I'm tempted to belittle, I'll try to hear the voice of my own Parent whispering encouragement in my ear as I move slowly along, "C'mon Steph, I'm right here, take a step. You can do it..." I'll do my best to remember how I rejoiced over little Favian's first steps, and be reminded of how my own Father rejoices over His kids. I'll remind myself that my first steps, however small and tentative, are important and necessary, and when strung together will cover great distance to carry me slowly and steadily towards a brighter day.