MozamWeek

Today I was reminded that at noon in the USA, it is almost nightfall in Mozambique. I spent a few minutes thinking through what nightfall in Tete is like for some of my friends. I'm feeling a little more homesick these days. Africa calls and I can't be there right now. I can remember and breath a prayer, though. Read along and maybe you will, too. The sun sets quickly in the tropics... instead of long, lingering sunsets, the orange ball nearly drops out of sight behind Kalawera mountain at the edge of Tete town. In the shadow of the mountain, the breeze picks up from down river and there is a bit of coolness... or at least a marked relief from the strength of the sun. The light dims and birds fly home. Cattle wander back to the corral moved along by young boys with long thin sticks, dusty clothes and tattered flip-flops.  Women are home and fires are lit for cooking or heating bathwater. There is smoke in the air and that smoke and dust are what make an African sunset s...

Yesterday I got a request to Skype with a friend in Mozambique. I thought it odd, but knew it must be something important. "I just didn't want to tell you this in an email or on Facebook," she explained as we finally got connected. "I just found out that Dona Rosa has died. Q said it was back in January. She was sick, he said you knew about the illness. I'm so sorry. I know you were close to her." Dona Rosa. Rosa worked with me for nearly 14 years in Mozambique. She was our  empregada:  employee. She arrived on our doorstep in November 1998, soon after we began living in Tete. She knocked on our door one morning and asked for a job. Without references, we were hesitant to "let her in." She came back every day practically begging for work. "I have two hands and I need work. My brother will tell you that I'm a good worker." After struggling to wash blue jeans by hand in a basin of cold water a few times, I gave in. "Ok, come and...

Hello there Friend! I've not been too busy to write to you. I was temporarily blocked out of my blog. Our internet in England is usually pretty good, but we get glitches. I'm surprised to see that I got in so easily today! I'm so surprised that I didn't even plan what I was going to write! I must take the opportunity as it comes. So, here we are together again! The day after Easter is a holiday almost everywhere. We enjoyed our Sunday at Long Crendon Baptist Church where we have decided to attend. They have lots of kids the right age for our kids... and lots of Wycliffe people so we don't have to explain what we are doing hanging out in England for five months. (They are used to missionaries on study programs dragging their kids around the world.)                               We drive about 25 minutes through the countryside to a tiny town near Oxford. The church is on the "High Street" ...

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 ...