Home Assignment | Amy Medina

Together

On December 4, 2013

We are squeezing out every possible bit of holiday joy this year.

Since our families live over 300 miles apart from each other, we figured the only way to spend time with all of them at Thanksgiving was to make them come to us. So they did–my parents, Gil’s parents, and Gil’s brother and family–all squished into our little apartment on Thanksgiving.

I would like the world to know that for the first time in many years, I did NOT make a pumpkin pie from scratch. I happily skipped over to Costco and paid $5.99 for a pie that I did not bake. Then I sat on the couch and enjoyed the fact that I was not baking pumpkin pie. It was a beautiful thing.

We all spent much of the weekend together–which included my birthday, picking out a Christmas tree, a trip to the zoo, and listening to Gil rock his sermon at our home church on Sunday.

Soaking it up.

Right back at you, Kid.

Eternity in My Heart

By Amy Medina

On November 16, 2013

In Other

Before we left Tanzania, I told my friend Alyssa, I’m scared I’ll like it too much in America. I’m afraid it will be too hard to come back to Tanzania.

I like it here. I like my apartment. I like that I never have to worry about water or electricity problems. I like being comfortable.

I like that I can run out to the store at 8:00 at night and know I will find exactly what I need, and be back home in 20 minutes.

I like that I can walk through the neighborhood and no one stares at me because I stick out. There’s a pediatrician’s office right down the street. There’s meat I don’t have to cook for 5 hours to make it chewable.

I love that our families are so close and we get to see them all the time. I love that we get to spend time with so many life-long friends. I love that my kids get to be in Awana.

But I have been haunted.

It’s all temporary.

It won’t last.

It’s only a year. It will go by fast. And leaving will be that much harder because it’s so fresh in my heart.

It steals my joy. It’s hard for me to enjoy it all, knowing that it’s not permanent and it will all end sooner than I want it to.

I ache for permanent.

For never-ending.

For eternal.

For eternity. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

Because the truth is, that even if I got my perfect little life in America, with the Victorian house with the porch swing and white picket fence, even if I owned it and we were all healthy and financially stable with a great retirement plan,

It still would be temporary.

Because there are always fires and earthquakes and typhoons and cancer and robbers and failing stock markets and death.

Death.

And I know this, so why do I have such a hard time accepting it? Why is there such a deep ache in my heart for permanent when everything around me is temporary?

Because I was not created for temporary.

As Solomon wrote, Eternity is in my heart.

Yet looking for eternity on earth is futile. Chasing after the wind.

And so I seek to embrace this temporary life. My temporary life in America; my temporary life on earth. To find the joy in each of these days God gives me, in whatever country, whatever house, whatever situation I am in. To live fully and completely here and now, knowing that the Permanent is yet to come.

We are not home yet.

hiking with Anchor Church friends in Long Beach

watching Uncle Brandon’s soccer game

Awana Sparks

speaking at Concord Bible Church

It’s Tradition

By Amy Medina

On October 14, 2013

In Other

“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.

Settling

By Amy Medina

On October 12, 2013

In Other

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.