I Am Home

You show me the path of life.  In your presence their is fullness of joy; in your right hand are pleasures forever more. 
Psalm 16: 11

After a whirlwind six weeks in America- I am home.  We arrived in Morogoro almost two weeks ago and I am still not fully adjusted to the nine hour time difference.  Just when I think I'm back on track, I wake up at 4 AM, ready to start the day or fall asleep watching TV at 7 PM and sleep until the next morning.  I'm hoping by the end of this week my body will join my spirit here in Tanzania. 

Frank and I spent the majority of our time in America on the road.  Every Sunday we spoke at different churches in Texas and Oklahoma about our stories, our work here in Tanzania and about Frank and Junior's dreams for the future.  We were overwhelmed by the generosity of those we encountered.  Not only did we raise $22,000 for Frank and Junior's seminary education, we also brought back twenty suitcases full of supplies for our children here in our neighborhood, at our school, and in the Maasai communities we serve.  Over 1,000 pairs of underwear were collected and over 600 pairs of socks.  100 school supply bags as well as rulers, pens, pencils, sharpeners, and notebooks to fill them. 500 boxes of crayons for every student at our school to have their own.  Flip flops, t-shirts, plush toys, soccer balls, basketballs, markers, and coloring books.  Specific manipulatives for students with Autism as well as funds to purchase wheelchairs and special mats for them.  50 pounds (yes, 50) of candy for my sweet little friends as well as children's medication of all kinds.  As the supplies poured in at each stop we made, my parents garage became increasingly full of suitcases.  We had to spend our last two days in America just packing supplies and weighing each suitcase to 50 pounds exactly.  I kept taking deep breaths and saying to myself, "wow" as I thought of my sweet students and neighbors who would be receving such incredible gifts upon our return. 
As to be expected, returning to the US after living in Africa for five months triggered some reverse culture shock.  The hustle and bustle of strict time commitments packed into tight schedules, ads on television for products and how-to articles in magazines promising the result of a happier life, the oh so familiar commercialised Chrsitmas mentality emphasizing the importance of presents rather than presence, even just conversations had with friends who, by no fault of their own, have no concept or desire to understand that different ways of life exist outside of their own.  I thought so often about what my friends here in Tanzania were doing while I was driving frustratedly through traffic to get to a speaking event or watching that commerical on TV, shopping for that last minute gift or having that conversation with a friend.  I pictured them sitting on the porch "making stories" and laughing out loud as afternoon turns to evening and evening turns to night.  I pictured the kids chasing each other barefoot and down the street, smiling and laughing as they run.  On many occassions, my heart pulled my brain back to Tanzania.  I had to remind myself, just as we all do during the Christmas season, to focus on being present, because God is at work through me and through everyone I meet all the time and in every place.  Not just the people who gave donations, not just in church, not just the people I like in the places we like to go, and not just in Tanzania.  Everyone.  Every place.
The highlight of the trip for me was spending time with my family.  My aunt and uncle and cousins who make me belly laugh and who are professionals at making me feel loved.  My grandmother who recently lost her best friend and love of her life, and yet still brings joy to any room, whether with her dance moves or her constant need to make sure everyone is fed and full all the time.  My sister who keeps me constantly entertained with her stories and her love of finding funny videos to show me, and who never once complained about having to share her room with me for six weeks.  And my parents, who though I know would much rather me have stayed with them in Texas and left ever again, have been more supportive of me than anyone else.  No matter how much they may hate the distance between us, I know they are proud of me, and I know that they, too, have a passion for the work I am doing here in Tanzania.  So just as I did every time I had to go back to college after a break or back to Dallas after a holiday, I hated leaving my family.  I don't think that will ever get easier for me. 
We had to rent a private bus to take us and our twenty suitcases from the aiport in Dar es Salaam to our home in Morogoro.  And even though everything around me screamed Africa from the moment we got off the plane, it didn't really hit me that I was home until we pulled onto my street.  We drove past the familiar motorcycle stands and the drivers waved, we passed our church where the choir was practicing, and then we pulled into the driveway and I heard the little voices I know so well- "Madam! Madam! Madam!" I got off the bus and dozens of little arms wrapped around me and my heart did a little flip flop before settling at peace in my chest.  I am home.