“Are we going to eat my pumpkin?” said Lily. [After all, that’s always what we did with pumpkins in Tanzania.]
“Nope, we’re going to carve them,” I said. “We will put faces on them.”
“Why?” said Lily.
“Because it’s fun!”
“Why?”
Oh, the wonders of American tradition through the eyes of a four-year-old.
You’re right, Lily, it doesn’t really make sense. But doggone it, you’re going to experience the fun things we do in America.
We moved in two weeks ago. And since our anniversary was last week, that means that it was almost exactly 13 years ago that we lived in this apartment.
Not much has changed. Well, except the rent.
We even are using the exact same washer/dryers that we used 13 years ago.
15 years ago, actually, since I lived in Number 9.
We had left practically nothing in the States. We brought nothing with us from Tanzania except 7 boxes, most of which were filled with gifts for other people.
We had no furniture, no kitchen supplies, no toys for the kids, and no warm clothes.
Yet here with are, with a full home.
Pam gave us a recliner.
Maggie gave us a bed for Josiah.
Gil’s folks gave us a couch from their own house, and Gil’s mom went garage-sale-hunting for weeks.
Nicole snagged us a fantastic fridge.
My parents brought down the bunk bed that my brother had slept in, that my Dad had slept in.
Folks from Hillside gave us bags of warm clothes.
and Valerie wrote to us a few months ago and said, “My Dad just passed away; do you want his furniture?” She gave us beds and a table and and a dresser and a whole kitchen full of supplies.
One of the best things about this apartment are the little bathroom heaters. Gil can’t stop me from turning that on.
I didn’t spend three hours cooking down tomatoes to make that sauce. It took me 10 minutes to make dinner. That, too, is a beautiful thing.
My cup runneth over.
Some of us are bringing our bed covers out with us in the morning.
Some of us are working with ear muffs on.
It’s in the 60’s sometimes out here in Southern California, and some of us with African blood are really cold.
Gil won’t let us turn the heat on yet. He says, If this were Finland, we’d all be wearing shorts.
Shoot….It’s going to be a long winter.
A habit is defined as
A recurrent, often unconscious pattern of behavior that is acquired through frequent repetition
When you live in a place long enough, you form habits. They are comforting. Your body goes through the motions even when you are sleepy; your car goes into autopilot; you don’t have to use so much mental energy when going through your day. Habits can be a really good thing.
In Tanzania, I used to spend a lot of time helping new folks get oriented. I would tell them, “It feels so strange…but don’t worry, give yourself six months to get used to things.”
It’s funny, now, being on the other side of that. I am American, yet my habits are still Tanzanian.
I constantly forget what side of the car to get into. A couple times, I actually have gotten into the right side of the car, ready to drive, and sit there confused for a few moments before I start feeling stupid. I keep turning on the windshield wipers instead of the indicator…oops, we’re in America, that would be the turn signal. Driving takes total concentration as I keep reminding myself, Stay on the right side of the road. I drove to Ikea by myself the other day and was extremely proud of myself.
I was incredibly excited to go to Costco to stock my kitchen. In the last eight years, every time we’ve been home, I’ve gone to Costco with my Mom and purchased the following: cold medicine, Parmesan cheese, deodorant, and taco seasoning. Sometimes chocolate chips, depending on how we were doing with space. I always checked out the weight of everything I bought. It’s how world travelers think.
So anyway, the thought of going to Costco to buy whatever I wanted was pretty exciting. But once I was there, I didn’t really know what to do. The first things I put into my cart were a large bag of rice and a large bag of beans. You mean, those are not the first things you buy at Costco? Old habits die hard.
The first few times I went shopping, I kept forgetting to buy dishwasher detergent. I sort of forgot I had a dishwasher. When I finally remembered and started my first load, I felt a huge sense of accomplishment.
When I’m in store, I mentally walk through the steps. Get out your wallet. Slide your card. Sign the little thingy.
I feel clumsy and awkward. I feel like if I looked international, people would understand my awkwardness, but I look like I belong here, so I should know what I am doing. If I happen to mention to strangers that we just moved here from Tanzania, I might as well said Mars.
I praise God that I am living in a place I remember, that hasn’t changed all that much in 8 years. That helps a lot. It’s all coming back to me, as if waking up from a long sleep.
And I am thankful for the chance to remember what it feels like to be new. Pray for your missionary friends today, who are adjusting to a new place somewhere out in the world. And go out and hug that immigrant woman who just moved in down the street. Show her how to work her dishwasher.
We’re getting that question a lot. Here’s the answer.
We are not on vacation.
We are not even on sabbatical.
When I was a kid, it used to be called furlough. Most mission agencies don’t call it that anymore because furlough means a leave of absence or vacation. Which it is not.
Instead, we call it Home Assignment.
First of all: Why are we staying a whole year?
Our mission requires us to be in the States about 20% of our time. In the past 8 years, we’ve been in the States approximately 7 months. So we’re kind of making up for lost time. There was never a good time to take a Home Assignment while we were at HOPAC. Since we are between ministries now, it works.
Secondly: What exactly are you doing if you are not on vacation?
Let me start by saying this:
We all talk about the Body of Christ. But as missionaries, we are more keenly aware of our need for it than we would otherwise recognize.
We cannot do what we do without the Body of Christ.
I’m not just stating that figuratively. We cannot.
We are an extension of the Church in America, and specifically five congregations in California, so we need to be connected to them.
That does not easily happen when we are 10,000 miles away. It’s been 8 years. A lot has changed in your lives; a lot has changed in our lives. So many people are new in these churches that they don’t even know who we are.
So it is important that we spend time in the States so that we can continue that personal connection. Because if we don’t have the Body behind us, there is no use in us going.
So what are we doing this year?
We were offered a rent-free, full-sized house about an hour away from here that we could have lived in all year. We turned it down for two-bedroom apartment, because we wanted to be close to FCC. If the whole point of us being here is to connect with the Church, then we’d better be nearby.
We’ll be doing other things as well–Gil will be studying and preparing curriculum for his upcoming new ministry, we all will be deepening our level of Swahili, and we will be spending lots of time with grandparents.
So if you attend one of our supporting churches, I hope you’ll see us a lot. If we invite you over for dinner, it’s because we want to get to know you (again). We love you; we need you. And we hope that we will live up to our calling to be your extension of the Body of Christ in Tanzania.
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