Early tomorrow morning we will begin the long trek back to the other side of the world. Three planes and 24 hours later we will stop in Dar es Salaam to explore medical options for the birth of our next child. A few days later we will take one more plane to Mwanza and then make the drive to Geita. After three months away, we are excited about getting back to our house, our friends, our life in Geita. The physical effort of getting from here to there takes great effort and time and the mental effort is no less a transition. As I think about getting back into the swing of things there I wonder how in the world the whole thing will feel to the not quite 2 year old.
Will he remember the place, the people? And can he possibly understand why he can’t see all his grandparents everyday, the ones he’s fallen in love with these last three months? Which of the memories that he’s made will stick with him? We’ll Skype of course, but Skype is never enough. It gets us by, it makes the distance more manageable, but it doesn’t replace presence. The thing is we like our life there. We are excited about our work. The cultural stresses are there, but so much less of a drain than they once were. But... leaving our families, knowing that they’ll miss so many moments of Jude’s growing and learning over the next 2 years, and Silas.... that part just doesn’t get any easier.
We cling to the difference we hope to make, the calling we feel to be in Geita, the God who always provides... and as we load our suitcases with things, we pack our minds full of memories, moments, images of people we wish we could squeeze into a carry-on.
It’s a small sacrifice in the scheme of the world and one that we chose, but our families didn’t choose it. Yet they cheer us on, send us care packages, and contribute half of our salary. We swell with the blessings.
