The Same Old, but Not (Thoughts from five months at home)

August 2015
Wow. I've been home now for almost five months. It all seems surreal. If you've ever travelled overseas you understand that it's a struggle to fit back into your life that you had before you left.
I spent ten months in Africa. Living in a brick building with concrete floor, screens for windows with a wooden shutter that we only closed when we left town. No fans, we walked pretty much everywhere. We wore the same four outfits in rotation and mostly the same pair of flip flops or we were barefoot. (Oops, don't tell Brenda about the barefoot part! )
I had two wonderful roommates, Hannah who was there for three months, and Ashlynn who was with me for all but the first six weeks. We were inseperable and God planned that aspect out perfectly for us, we never had any disagreeements and we each others biggest encouragers and best friends.
We had internet minus a few month blocks of time. Our internet capabilities were much better than I expected them to be. However, there were several times that we wanted to skype our families and the internet was unavailable. Those were the only tears we ever shed over technology. There was something nice about talking in real life to our new Mozambican friends who lived very near to us, reading books and having deep conversations with roommates.
There was a whole new aspect in my relationship with God when He was the only one I could hope in. I was in a strange and new place where I only spoke their second language partially and knew a few words in their first language. But what a beautiful thing to worship Him together. To know that we pray to the same God and that He loves us all the same. Their joy was inspiring. If they can praise God with such meager resources, with sickness and death so close to them every day, why am I so slow to do so.
Ashlynn and I started a 'thankful' exercise that every day we would choose three things that we were especially thankful for that day. Even on the hardest of days we could find things to thank Him for even if it was that we didn't have to carry our water for showers--Rachide, the guard did, or the chocolate bon bons that we could buy at the market for ten cents. Or Alferes' giggle during English class. Whatever the case, He had given us such beautiful gifts, we sometimes had to look harder for them, past the frustrations of the day.
So now I look at my life that I left, I'm back in the same place but it feels so different. I spent a few months in Ohio babysitting and hanging out with my sister and helping her get ready for her wedding. It was nice to relax and catch up with some old friends along the way. Four weeks ago I came back to Texas. I came back to my job as a receptionist, working with the same people I am living in the same bedroom, for now, and hanging out with the same people, plus a few new ones. But it feels so different. I feel so different. I miss my Mozambican family. Some days are really hard to reconcile this life with the life I had a year ago.
When I'm eating three meals a day plus snacks, I remember that for some kids, two meals of rice and beans is 'good eating.' When I'm driving to work, arriving 20 miles away in 20 minutes, I remember that some people would ride their bike, with their wife and baby sitting on the back twenty miles in several hours to get to their field so they could work in it all day so they would have food in three months. When I go to the grocery store with endless supplies, I remember the shops in the market with three options, all of which were pricey for the locals. When I see people glued to their phones, I remember that we talked in real life, struggling to get our point across but laughing together and feeling so content that we were becoming better friends through the challenge.
So, friends and family, thanks for being patient with me. Remember that coming home is hard. I missed you, I love you, but I don't know exactly how to find my new normal. To be completely present but always mindful of what I have learned and who I came to be. Pray for me as I navigate the best place to be and to serve. And as always, I'm incredibly greateful for you all.

Thinking of Mozambique

Wow, its been a very long time since I wrote a post on this blog. Partially because I was catching up on life in America and this is a blog for my Mozambican experiences and partially I don't even know where to start with my thoughts and understanding of that time against the backdrop of my current place in life.

It seems surreal that this was me ten months ago. It seems like yesterday and forever ago at the same time. There are so many things that I miss.

It would be an understatement to say that I miss my dear, dear Mozambican family. That was a hard goodbye and is hard to think that I'll never see them again this side of heaven. We shared so many sweet times together. Playing soccer, participating in dance rehearsal for church, cooking together, playing hopscotch, teaching English and learning Makua, etc. etc.

I miss the simple but real interactions. The genuine smiles. The complete attention during conversation that was undistracted by technology. I remember one of the ten year old boys coming down to the warehouse to get some rice for his home. The men that worked at the warehouse knew his name and were joking around with him as if they were uncles or his father--which he didn't have. It was one of my favorite memories because those guys cared and I could see on that little boys face that he was happy to be included. I guess its a universil thing that we just want to be known and included, right?

I miss church. I miss the joy on each person's face as they sang those songs at the top of their lungs and danced and clapped. I miss the kids grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the aisle to dance with them. One day one of the mothers tied her foster son on my back. I felt accepted and like a true Mozambicana at that moment and I was elated.

I miss the morning AWANA program every day. Playing with the kids and cheering them on and then joining in as we sang and Carlitos Jorge gave the lesson. He cared for those kids in a fatherly way; I know they knew that he cared. 

It seems like simple and genuine interaction is a recurring theme. It is. It is a much more rare here. Myself included. I often have an agenda in my conversations or I'm not listening because I'm planning what I'm going to say next.

I miss wearing the same four outfits everyday. Seriously. I loved those outfits and its so much simpler! We dressed like the people and they seemed to love it. Especially when my hair was braided in cornrows, I would get a lot of compliments!

In retrospect, its been a crazy adjustment back to life here. Trying to reconcile my life there with the one I had/have here. There have been lots of tears and frustrations and joy. I'm thankful for family and friends who have listened to countless Mozambican memories while listening and encouraging me as I adjust to what it looks like to be an American again and adjust to the culture here.

So while that was a beautiful, awesome experience. This one is too, I just have to have eyes to see the people around me. They also need someone to genuinely care for them. There are a few more things in process, but those will be discussed in a later post...

Que Deus os abençoe