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As we plan for this move I try to focus on the positives: Air conditioning, dependable power, yogurt, air conditioning, smooth roads, air conditioning... can you tell it’s been hot?! But the reality is that it is with mixed emotions that we will return next month. For me and Carson this will be returning home in a sense, our home country, state, family. But it will also be leaving home, especially for our kids. We’ve made trips back often enough that Jude has a concept of where we are going, but this is the only house he’s ever lived in. It’s where his room is, his dogs are, his life up until now has been. And no matter how many times I try to explain to him that this time we’re not coming back he can’t grasp it, because we have ALWAYS come back.

The other day he was lining up leaves on the sidewalk. I think he said they were boats. Anyway, he told me he was going to leave them until the next day so he could show his family. Carson was out of town so I assumed that was who he meant, but when I asked who his family was he replied, “Alicia and the Groens” and then proceeded to name off members of both the Groen and Harrison families. Our teammates fit in his definition of family... and ours’ too. These are people who we’ve been with for holidays, birthdays, retreats, worship, and new babies. They are the ones we've experienced the extreme changes and ups and downs of a new country, language, and culture with. 

We're leaving home and family to go home to family.

Jude and Baylor- July 2011

a link: Kelley Nikondeha and Richard Rohr

Just wanted to share a link to a blog I've been enjoying lately.
Kelley Nikondeha is an American married to a Burundian and raising two adopted Burundi kids. She write about her life between these two worlds and theology.

In the post I'm sharing a link to, Kelley shares a video of Richard Rohr talking about prayer. I'm not really familiar with him, but his name keeps popping up on blogs I read and the short video has some great thoughts. Here's the link:

Richard Rohr on Prayer

Purpose

I’ve been a bit quiet on here. As we make preparations to come back in less than two months I am filled with all sorts of thoughts and emotions, but I struggle with the right words to share them. I’m going to try. But let me preface with this: I’m ok. I’m good with where I am and where I’ve been. The following post includes thoughts that I’ve written out many times many different ways over the previous months. I can’t seem to say it without it sounding negative. Not that I'm ever really Pollyanna. There are seasons in life that are about learning and not accomplishing. So resist the urge to jump in with lots of encouragement about how much of a difference I must have made. I'm not looking for that, just trying to share a few thoughts in this space of mine.

I came to Tanzania with big plans. You know, like changing the world.

I probably don’t have to tell you that I’ve yet to change the world. 

As we make our plans to move back next month I find myself thinking over our time here and wondering what it was all for. Carson has done lots of worthwhile things and plans to continue them with Mbegu Films, so I could just simply say that we came here for his work. That would be enough. 

But that wasn’t my plan in the beginning. I wanted to be a part of things here in a direct way that I haven’t been able to. There are lots of reasons that I don’t really want to hash out. In the end I have to admit that most of my plans just weren’t the right plans. There were things I didn’t pursue because I was busy having kids and there were things I didn’t pursue because in the end they didn’t seem like the right things to do. 

After four years here I’m more confused than ever about what would actually help end poverty. There are so many programs out there, but are any of them working in a direction that will one day leave these countries independent of Western aid? And is there any way to even achieve that if the governments aren’t working in that direction as well? 

The one thing I know for sure is that these 4 years have changed me. There is just something about stepping away from what you know that opens a door to God. And the gust coming through the door shakes up everything. I think some of the dust is still trying to settle and I wonder how long that might take. And I often find myself thinking that perhaps God called me to Africa for just that purpose: to shake up my dust.

     Just a pretty picture from Lake Tanganyika