MozamWeek

We have landed. Again. This time on an island not far away at all. We are fairly near our last hop... only one time zone changed. We didn't have to change our language this time. We change our spell-checker version to blend in on paper. We taxied out in snow and slush. Freezing weather and Pakistani driver. Five extra large, brand new suitcases found a new home. The next day, the sun came out.  It snowed. Rolling the heavy stuff into body, heart and head took muscle. Two boys huffed and puffed their men together. Green tracks in the formerly unblemished blanket of white.  Very green for mid-winter. New schools. New friends. New challenges. New ideas. New... New... New... So glad that He who makes all things new is the same always. So glad He who knows all things knew this day always, too. So glad... for green in mid-winter and sunshine in snow and heart and soul and five suitcases that hopped here together.  Nothing new about that! So glad! ...

Transition is never easy. Change is seldom comfortable. Life is, in essence, a series of changes that necessitate transition of one type or another. Growing and growing up are full of change and peppered with transitions. If growth is seen as positive by our society and our psyche, why is change so dreaded? Why is transition seen as a temporary state? As missionaries... as an international family... as expats (pretty much no matter where we live) we know transition intimately. How many times have I written, "We will spend the next week or so settling into our new home?" How many homes have we had as a family of five? One. Our family is our home in so many ways. The prospect of dividing up for a month or so isn't as simple as one would expect. When we are together we are home. It has become very important for our kids, especially. In the absence of a fixed house address (or even country of residence) they have substituted people as their home. Me, too, I think. The pas...

So here I am. Honestly, the missionary furlough/home assignment thing is a strange animal to live with. On one hand we are so blessed and so thankful to be so close to family and familiar ease and comforts. On the other hand, we are almost constantly reminded of an impending farewell to such things and unknown adventure on the horizon. Sigh. I just have to sigh, I guess. I watch with pride as my kids adjust almost effortlessly to changes. They tell me they don't like to leave, but they like to get on to the next place. I guess that is why I dread goodbyes... I'd rather just slip off quietly, stay in a sort of transition for a little longer than expected, and then drop into my next home in one swoop. Next home... I think that about describes it. I'm a "serial liver", I guess! You can't be home in two places as once (to the frustration of people I have to leave behind, I'm pretty good at being present in my next place.) I'm known to "make myself...

Where did YOU grow up? Was it someplace special? I grew up in a very normal place. I spent a week back in there. In the 70's and early 80's we lived in houses within a few miles of where I was born. The last house was on Popp Road at the edge of Grandpa's 40 acres. Mom, my kids and I enjoyed our stay at my aunt's house right next door to our last "Daddy-built" home. Driving down the road with the afternoon sun glowing through golden, green and orange woods I had to think, "There is really no prettier place in the world." I'm so thankful for having a chance to grow up on the edge of a cornfield... on a gravel road lined with trees... just a jog or bike ride from my grandma's house... with a blue sky overhead and fresh air blowing through the leaves. I'm thankful for the closeness of family that provided much perspective on life and shaped my choices for the future. I'm thankful for the ...

It has been over a month since my first USA post on MozamWeek. I have been quite lax in communicating, I guess. Time with family getting adjusted to this life in Alabama has been good. We have gotten together each weekend (mostly for birthday celebrations - September seems to be the hot month for that around here!) What can I write when there are no interesting cultural quirks that I can point out without offending my neighbors? I'm only half kidding. Alabama is full of cultural quirks that people are pretty proud of! Right now, we are leading up to Homecoming at the kids' school. As a K-12 school, the younger kids are also involved in homecoming more than in a larger school. So we are volunteering for banner construction and have stacks of fundraising opportunities to help with (insert a groan). Buy doughnuts? Sell coupon books? Get your face painted in class with the team logo for only a dollar? After spending so much time in Mozambique, a dollar has more meaning than it ...

When you are from a place as huge and wonderful as America it is hard to leave. It is interesting that very few Americans actually HAVE passports at all. They really feel no need to ever go anywhere else. With all the diversity and beauty and prosperity within our borders, I guess they are right. You really don't NEED to go anywhere else if you are an American in America. But, I'm one of an estimated 35% of Americans with a passport. I not only live overseas but am married to an alien. (He's only an alien when we are in the USA, though.) Coming home is a rare thing. We can't afford to make the $8,000 trip every year with the family. We average once in three years and then we divide our visits between Sweden and the USA. It is hard, but it is best for us. I've been back for three weeks. We took the long way home to a place in Alabama. On the way we visited Washington DC and marveled at modern sculpture and ancient dinosaurs all in the same day. We headed to Orl...

Driving through the countryside in Sweden Through forest and farmland Then... Blocks of blue and white and gold and black and red   overtake the green Shopping centers. Grocery stores. Parking lots with rows of spaces... a few cars stand shiny, without rust... without dust. Metal, plastic, colored glass, clear glass, cardboard, newspapers... Recycling bins awaiting deposits from the conscientious residents of a conscientious country. ... bright squares standing in the sky. Golden arches on a red sign promise drive-thru service of burgers and fries until 2am. Now... Bike lanes. Bus stops. Round-about. Overpass. Traffic light. Houses tighten their ranks. Lawns draw in close. Flowers in pots. Balconies. Blocks of brick reach higher. Town. Stone buildings three hundred years old. Sharp roof-lines. Church steeples. Bells ring at noon. Parks. Cobbled walks. Tiny shops with gilded writing announce- "REA" "SALE" in...