There have been adjustments to being back. We have all had rounds of various illnesses, but we are recovering. It takes some doing to get back to the fast pace we run at in this country. The other morning, I heard a car honk their horn next to me and I found myself looking to see where there might be a goat running on to the road! We slowly melt back into our weekly routine--work, church, school, home--and yet we scramble to make sure that the new memories we have do not slip away too quickly. I don't want to just "settle back in"; I don't want to forget the smell of the dust and smoke, the smiles as people realize I have no idea what they are saying (and they love me anyway). I have been injected with a serum of experience from another culture, and once again it has changed me, I think for the better.
We are going through our pictures and video and looking for opportunities to share. Part of the struggle is the time it takes, because every picture has a story, and to tell that story takes background, and explanation. It also takes time to sit back and remember exactly what I was doing and feeling as the picture was taken, who else was there and what I was thinking... and soon I realize I am not getting much done, just reminiscing. It would go so much faster if I could just take you there with me!
The reaffirming "welcome home" from those who know us is of great comfort. We would not have been able to go without the help and support of so many. Though we were in the culture, the bridge there and back was built upon the love and prayers of all of you! And through us, there are many more people who now know about you, even though you have never met. They know you through us, as we told them about you, and someday you may meet face to face, say hello and drink some tea!
Sorry.... typing that last line made me cry.
I realize that the greatest meeting would be to share around our Father's table, rejoicing in being part of the same family. But for some of the people we met, that may never happen. Though we know their names and can see their faces and hold their hands, their culture binds them to a religion of works, trying to please a distant, uncaring deity and never knowing if they are being good enough. They do not know that there is a better way, with a loving Father, who even now reaches out to them, to lift them from their dusty prayer mat and draw them to Himself. He wants a relationship with these people, and there is so much to do to let them know He loves them. To do that, WE must love them--not love the journey, not love the exotic feel, not love the praise of others for what we are doing, but we must love THEM. And they can be in their country or ours, on their street or on ours, in their home or in ours, but we are called to love. That is the job that I/we have before us.
Going on a trip like this requires much preparation; physically, mentally and spiritually. Coming home is equally as arduous. I do not know if the future holds another trip back, but I do know that a part of me lives there every day, and when I pray for my friends, the list is now longer. What a blessing this has been!
Ricky
