Author: Amy Medina Page 17 of 231

Homesick

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On December 7, 2021

In Eternity, Leaving Tanzania, Re-Entry to America

I volunteer weekly at an after-school program for disadvantaged kids, and I went to the banquet that celebrated this ministry’s 20 year anniversary. 

We watched a video montage of how the ministry has expanded over the years. We listened to young people, now grown up, whose lives were changed because of the investment in them. 

It was a lovely evening. But when I got to my car afterwards, I wept. I enjoy being a part of this ministry, but the banquet reminded me that I am a newcomer; I know nothing of the history of two decades. And all I could think about was how I had left behind 20 years of history in Tanzania.

I did not anticipate the lostness that comes with starting life over again.

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Words Left Me

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On November 24, 2021

In Re-Entry to America

In September I immersed myself in Sheshi and Trudie’s lives, working together with them to write his story.

And then I stopped writing. 

Gil’s mom died. Sheshi died. Both from brain tumors. I read about the fathers in Afghanistan who are selling off their little girls so that they can feed their other children, about the nursing mothers in Tigray, Ethiopia, who eat leaves but produce no milk. 

Josiah broke his collarbone playing soccer and needed surgery. We discovered Johnny needs myofunctional therapy, which I didn’t even know was a thing. Unsettling emails came from school, which led to a visit to a psychiatrist with one of our children. 

I felt unwell for most of October. I stopped sleeping. I discovered I’m anemic. I still don’t know how much my body was speaking to my mind or my mind was speaking to my body. 

Words left me in October. It’s the end of November and I am sleeping better and feeling better, but I’m still struggling to find words. I’ve stared at a blinking cursor on this blank document for restless days.

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Drinking From the Jug of Suffering: The Steadfast Faith of Sheshi Kaniki

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On November 2, 2021

In Eternity, Life in Tanzania

Sheshi Kaniki loved to dance. Anyone visiting God’s Tribe Church in Tanzania witnessed this pastor engaging in delighted exultation, full-body worship. Always in the front row, next to his wife Trudie, Sheshi danced in praise — that same joy then radiating through his preaching.

After a brain cancer diagnosis in May 2020, Sheshi soon lost the strength to dance. Despite this devastation, his story of personal sacrifice and submission to God’s sovereignty in suffering has challenged the church in Tanzania — and beyond. 

Sheshi was born in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, but his father’s job as a professor provided him an international life. He was one of those kids who gave his parents a run for their money, pushing boundaries, the life of any party. 

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Beware the Idols of an Overseas Life

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On October 18, 2021

In A Life Overseas, Thoughts on Missions

This piece was originally posted at A Life Overseas for a missionary audience. But there is lots here that applies to any Christian.

When we first move overseas, all we feel is the sacrifice. 

Homesickness punches us in the stomach; we experience a physical ache for left-behind loved ones. Our new country feels strange and overwhelming. We lose our sense of self-respect as we bumble along in communication. We mourn the loss of our identity and productivity as we try to figure out how to drive, eat, and parent in this new universe. There are times when we even hate it, and wonder what on earth brought us here.

But then, something changes.

It will likely take (many) years, but one day it dawns on us that we feel more at home in our host country than our home country. We tell jokes in a different language. We navigate the bus system with ease. We crave the local food. We no longer look forward to our furloughs or home assignments, and might even dread them. 

We’ve found a new community, and it’s possible that those relationships are stronger and deeper than anything we had back at home. The view outside our kitchen window has become familiar. Grocery shopping is mundane. We’ve figured out how to make this new life work. And we are comfortable.

And that’s exactly when we must be on our guard.

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Reflections on Losing My Mother-in-Law

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On September 22, 2021

In Eternity

On the evening my mother-in-law died, I drove to pick up Josiah from soccer practice, thinking about how there is no good way to tell a grandson that his grandmother is gone. 

The moon rose, a perfect crescent hung low in the clear sky. Under the expanse of the night, the boundary between earth and heaven felt blurry. She was Here, and then she was There, a moment later.

Eternity is not so far away as we think it is. It is right there, one breath away, as simple as pulling back a curtain.

The shock of losing a parent is kind of like the shock of aging. (Hey now, how can I possibly be turning 45? Only old people are 45.) You know it’s coming, but still, it takes you aback when it actually happens. Not everyone loses a child in their lifetime, but everyone will lose their parents. It’s “normal,” but that doesn’t make it any less astonishing.

A parent is a fixed mark in life. Lose one, and the earth shifts under you. Life gets divided into two segments: Before Mom, and After Mom. 

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