"Home ???"

While waiting to disembark the plane in London, the steward smiled at me and said, “Welcome to London.  Are you going home?”

“No,” I answered, thinking how weird it feels to not be going home, but to a new place.

“Oh, then you are on holiday. Enjoy your holiday!” was his cheery response.

My heart skittered a beat or two.  This is not my idea of going on holiday!  So I wondered, “Am I going home?  I mean, I am on my way to Kampala.  I will live there for the next several years.  Am I going home?  What should I have said?  Should I have said “yes?”

“But it doesn’t feel anything like going home.  No kids traveling with us.  We won’t have our household stuff for who-knows-how-long.  Don’t know my way around the neighborhood and beyond.  It doesn’t feel like going home.”

Echoing in my head I hear myself telling our young children, “Home is where your pillow is.  Even if we are in a different place than we have been before, if we are going together and our pillows are there, we can say we are going home.  Soon it can feel like home.”

“Ok, my pillow is in one of the myriad pieces of luggage traveling with us.  Jeff and I are going together.  Yes, I can say I am going home.  Hopefully soon it can feel like home.”  I repeated this to myself several times in the airport, talking myself into the reality that we are going home.

But it didn’t feel like coming home.  Nothing seemed as familiar as home.

And yet….the morning after our arrival I awakened to familiar birdsong.  Musical sounds my heart has been longing for during the last year…the birdsong of Africa.  Even if it included pied crows cawing and ibis “maaaaahing” it is familiar and sounds like home! 

I look out the front window and see a “yesterday, today, tomorrow” bush with its purple, lavender and white blossoms, and it looks like home.  Blueband (margarine) on the counter, Hobnobs (oatmeal cookies) on the shelf and it seems like home. 

Beating African drums loudly pounding familiar rhythms in accompaniment of a church choir down the street call my heart to worship.  I close my eyes and even in the empty living room of our house I feel at home.  My heartbeat dances to the drum beats even while singing with the birdsong.  The sights and sounds of Africa….and my pillow on the bed.  Yes, soon it can feel like home.

Christine

Too blessed to hold it all in!

On the eve of our departure for Uganda we feel too blessed to hold it all in.  Blessed to be with our kids.  Blessed to rock our granddaughter.  Blessed to be invited by God to participate with Him in sharing His love in Uganda, and so much more!

We recently read the letter of a colleague in which she mentioned some “stones of remembrance” noted through recent months.  That is a great idea!  We are borrowing it. Below we lay out some of our stones of remembrance collected through our year of Home Ministry Assignment (HMA).

• surprise visit by Chris and Lizz Bramble upon our initial arrival in Oregon
• living close to where Chris Stanfield attends university and where our parents and siblings live
• many, many gatherings with our parents, siblings, and other family members
• attending “Sabbath by the Sea” on the Oregon coast
• participating in a small group of folks intending to become more like Christ
• watching Chris play basketball
• attending Lizz’s graduation from university
• attending the birth of our granddaughter
• many people helping to get our prayer letters into the mail
• many folks working together to share in what God is doing in Uganda
• generosity of so many people
• ministry time in churches and homes
• spending time with colleagues in ministry
• encouragement through friends and family
• God’s presence ministering to us through our grief
• the gift of a sense of adventure in new beginnings
• delightful times with special friends
• time with all our kids and our granddaughter together as we prepare to fly out tomorrow
• many people committed to praying for us

There is MUCH MORE we could declare, but you get the idea.  We are blessed beyond all measure…too blessed to hold it all in.  Even as you pray for our safety in travel, for God’s protection over our luggage and for parting grace in once again moving away from our loved ones, we invite you to praise the Lord with us for his many blessings.  Praise the Lord!

It's that time again . . . . .

Bags packed.  House emptied.  House cleaned.  Car returned to the church. Family gatherings behind us. One last trip to the beach.  Done.

So it’s that time again.  Time for the great effort of trying to freeze-frame each interaction, each lovely scene, each favorite flavor, each person we love.  Time to savor all over again treasures-in- time with loved ones. Time for one last hug…over and over again.  Time to separate.  Ugh!

It’s that time again. Looking back, wondering if we spent the time within the year doing what was most important.  Pondering if we could have made more time to be with friends and family.  With each memory comes gratitude for time shared with others.  Prayer time.  Play time.  Meal time.  Exercise time.  Coffee time.  Church time. Friendship time. Encouragement time.  Gratitude for the time we have.  Now it’s that time again.

This time is hard.  No easy way through.  It’s that time between wanting to stay with those we love and wanting to get on with the new beginning ahead. This time is hard, and it is already that time again.

It’s that time again, when we feel the sweet peace that only God gives.  The time when we know without any doubt we are doing what is right, what is God-given for us, to us. This is the time when we firmly plant our feet on the foundation of God’s faithfulness and rest on His promises.  This is the time when we say all over again, “All our changes come from Him, He who never changes.  I’m held firm in the grasp of the Ro,ck of all the ages.  All is well with my soul, He is God in control.  I know not all His plans, but I know I’m in His hands.  Whatever is His way, all is well.” (words by Robin Mark, click on this link to listen to "All is Well")

Yep, it’s that time again.  All is well.