 |
| Early March: I posted a picture on Facebook announcing that Africa could send America toilet paper. We had plenty. |
 |
| March 13: All School assembly for Service Emphasis Week–No social distancing happening here! |
 |
| From Friday afternoon to the following Monday: No kids on campus. Everything changed in one weekend. |
 |
| Gearing up for Distance Learning |
 |
| My last day in my office. We had bought tickets the night before. “Take a picture,” I told Gil. “Just in case I don’t make it back.” Why do we smile for pictures even when we are miserable? |
 |
| Friends stopped by to say good-bye. My kids with the celebrity-quadruplets. Their presence brings sunshine into any room. |
 |
| Baby shoes from my kids’ early days. Sentimental things I had saved, but decided we had no room to bring with us. So I took pictures instead. |
 |
| To post on Facebook: “Looking for a home for our sweet dog.” |
 |
| More friends stopping by to say goodbye. It was rushed, but I am so thankful for every last one of these. A quick goodbye is better than none at all. |
 |
| Sorting everything to sell. I sold kitchen containers with the flour still in them. |
 |
| Stopped by school one last time. I took pictures of everything, wanting to grab hold of every memory. This is the administration building where my office is, where I spent the last three years. |
 |
| The famous baobab tree at HOPAC. It was there before we were. |
 |
| Visiting a very, very special family one last time. Their seven and my four fit together perfectly. |
 |
| We sold the dishes….so our last dinner was at the nearby Ramada Hotel. We were shocked by how empty it was. Though life in the city seemed to be going on as normal, big changes were starting. |
 |
| Saying goodbye to our gardener, Paul. He has lived on our property and been a part of our lives for ten years. |
 |
| With the luggage, saying one last goodbye to Snoopy. Again, why do we smile for pictures even when we are miserable? |
 |
| On the way to the airport, taking a picture of a guy in a gorilla mask who is selling gorilla masks to people stopped at intersections. Because even when you’re miserable, you find ways to smile. |
 |
| I found this on one of the kids’ phones: Shoppers Plaza, one of the places they’ve known their whole lives. |
 |
| Eating lunch at the empty Dar es Salaam airport. Hey, did you know there’s KFC at the Dar airport now? This is very exciting. |
 |
| Coming in for a landing in San Francisco |
Mark
Hi,
Over the years I've read only fifteen or twenty of your many posts. Today a "big picture" occurrred to me. One one hand you and your family have been called to extreme busy-ness, challenges and some trials. The way you've described many of them, they have seemed to regularly fill the time available. On the other hand you have all remained constant in affirming and leaning on God's plan, path and help.
Through all of it, you yourself have been gifted with the ability to observe and report, both the hard and the glorious… to be in the midst, while keeping some distance… to wait, including during times of discomfort, while resting on God's hope and great comfort.
It was your post about Saturday in the Easter weekend, coming as that day did between death and life, darkness and light, that got me thinking about you and your choices as an example of effective waiting. And then your recent post with photos… I thought, even if Amy is out of words, she still finds a way to observe and report, to remain in a mess, and hopeful about the outcome. Whether you write to just decompress for yourself, or with an eye to intentional ministry to your readers, I at least feel ministered to.
Twice you added to photos, "Why do we smile for pictures even when we are miserable?" To me that stated the big picture of your many hours of work putting your life out here for readers. "Why do we hope every day in the midst of chaos and even suffering?" You've left it clear in other posts that the answer of course depends not on our efforts or circumstances, but on God's mercy, grace, gift, rescue, ongoing care and promise of sure hope for a more glorious creation ahead.
Thanks for your work! (I first found a post of yours when Tim Challies linked to it, years ago.)
Mark
Amy Medina
Thank you for your life-giving words!
by grace,
Amy