Tag: Home Assignment Page 9 of 15

Aiming at Heaven

On May 19, 2013

It was May of 1989. I was 12 years old, and my family was getting ready to leave the country where I had spent most of my childhood.

We were leaving Liberia to go back to California for a year-long home assignment. We packed up our house and put all our personal belongings into the spare room. Another family would stay there for the year we were gone.

The plan was that we would return in the summer of 1990, and would live in Liberia for my four years of high school.

But during that year we were gone, a civil war broke out in Liberia. It got worse. And worse.

And finally it got so bad, that all the missionary women and children were evacuated. Then the men were evacuated. The compound where I grew up was bombed. Many Liberian friends were killed. We never returned. My family was re-assigned to Ethiopia.

We lost everything. Everything we owned was in Liberia, and it was all looted. I lost my sixth grade journal, the painting my grandmother made me, and my childhood treasures. More significantly, I lost my home country, my identity, my innocence.

I never got to say good-bye, either to the country or the people I loved. Liberia haunts my dreams; it remains an unfinished part of my life to this day.

Now, it’s May of 2013. I am all grown up now, and our family is getting ready to leave the country where we’ve spent 10 years. We are leaving Tanzania to go back to California for a year-long home assignment. I am packing up our house and putting all our personal belongings into a spare room. Another family will stay in this house for the year we are gone.

And I must admit; I am anxious. The feelings are too eerily familiar to what I experienced as a child–packing up, leaving everything behind, assuming I will return. So I find myself worrying that the same thing is going to happen again this time….that I will lose everything.

It’s a mostly irrational fear. Tanzania is a far more stable country than Liberia was in 1989. But the truth is, you never really know what’s going to happen in Africa.

If there is one thing this life has taught me, it’s that I must hold loosely to everything. Everything. I can’t put down roots anywhere; I will never find stability. I will never grow old in one house. I may someday have to evacuate with the clothes on my back. Or, I may just get robbed blind.

But it’s okay. Because it reminds me that I shouldn’t love this life too tightly anyway. This life is not all there is, and it’s definitely not worth fretting over.

Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you get neither. C. S. Lewis

In Between

By Amy Medina

On April 13, 2013

In Other

Josiah, my perler bead maniac, brought this to me recently. He told me that the green piece is America, and the blue piece is Africa, and the red piece is us flying on the plane in between.

Okay, so it’s not an artistic masterpiece. But I love that it showed me what’s going on in his little head.

I have a map too. It’s a bit more sophisticated, I guess. I’ve been sitting there this week, pouring over my map, making little black dots on it. See those black dots? They represent the Anders, the McBrides, the Limas, the McLerans, the Bunnells, the Pelczars, the Millers…..and many more. We’re playing connect-the-dots these days.

I can’t wait.

I would like to know, though, how it is possible to simultaneously ache for the beauty of two very different places, at the same time?

Saadani National Park

My Dad’s garden last week, wisteria in bloom

Ah, my divided heart.

Two Worlds

By Amy Medina

On August 18, 2012

In Other

So even though I didn’t post any pictures of Walmart, I did go. In fact, one day my Mom took Grace to play minature golf and dropped me off at Walmart, and I walked down every single aisle. If someone from marketing had seen me, they would have wanted to use my awestruck face in a commercial, certainly.

I did, however, take a picture of this:

Because Olive Garden’s breadsticks and salad deserve to be immortalized.

It was a wonderful two weeks. Or rather, 12 days. Plus 4 days for traveling. Grace and I soaked up all the hugs and memories and fun that we could possibly squeeze into those 12 days. And that amazing man of mine, who genuinely enjoys being Mr. Mom, took Lily and Josiah to the pool, kept up their routines, declared a Star Wars day, and even re-organized various sections of the house while we were gone. Of course, they did also eat a ridiculous amount of bacon. Thankfully there were no heart attacks as a result.

But it was still hard in a lot of ways. All the happiness with our families just serves as a painful reminder of what we have given up. All the memories we create just seem to prick me in the heart of all the memories we could be having.

And every time we go back, I feel more distant from American life. Every time we go back, it seems to get harder. And this time was especially hard because my daughter gets it now too. We said good-bye to my Mom at the airport, walked through security, and she burst into tears. I pulled her aside and put her head in my lap while she wept. Why do we have to live so far away from them? she said. Why do we live in Tanzania when all the rest of our family lives in America? Why couldn’t I give Babu one last hug?

And how can I explain it to a six-year-old? Because Tanzania is where God wants us to be, my Sweetheart. Because we love it there. Because we fix our eyes on things above, on That Day when there will be no more good-byes.

But my words sound hollow, even to myself, because I know my heart is breaking as much as hers is.

This is our last year at HOPAC. Next summer, we will return to the States for a whole year before returning to Tanzania in a different ministry. So Next Year was a big topic of conversation with everyone we talked to. Next Year we’ll have time to get together. Next Year we’ll be able to go to that place. Next Year I’ll be able to do more than just hug you in the church foyer.

And I am simultaneously excited and terrified. Excited for obvious reasons, and terrified because I just don’t how much more of this my heart can handle; this living in two worlds.

The Trip in Pictures

By Amy Medina

On August 14, 2012

In Other

Learning to fish with Aunt Tabby

Riding horses while camping with the Medina family

Grandma and Grandpa Medina

Visiting Maggie at Stanford

At Great America with Bibi and Babu (my parents)

Trampolining with Uncle Paul

Friends!

Ringling Brothers and Barnum Bailey Circus!

Would my Dad have bought me this hat when I was a kid? I don’t think so.

What is with grandparents?

On Flying Internationally

By Amy Medina

On August 8, 2012

In Other

When I was a little girl flying to Africa, times were different.

There would be one big screen in the front of the cabin, on which one movie was shown that everyone had to watch. At least, everyone who was big enough to see over the seats. And if their Mom let them watch that particular movie.

I also remember that those were the days of smoking sections. Once we were accidentally seated in the smoking section. Another time, we were in the row directly behind the smoking section. The guy in front of us smoked cigars the entire 10 hours. I visited the bathroom about 3 times an hour, just to get away from the smoke.

But the times have changed, and not just because smoking is never allowed on any airplane anymore. We still fly coach, but 20 hours on a plane isn’t nearly as bad as it used to be, especially for kids.

For the first time, we flew on Emirates Air. They gave Grace a free blanket (to take home), a stuffed animal, and an insulated lunch box with snacks in it.

We had a menu. I had already pre-ordered kids’ meals for Grace, but I got to choose from these options for myself. U.S. airlines may only give you peanuts, but international airlines just keep feeding you.

The best part, however, are the personal touch screens on every seat. Dozens of movies, TV shows, and even video games that you can play with the other passengers. I watched almost the entire Seasons 1 & 2 of “Downton Abbey.” I’ll work on the rest on the way home!

Grace was in heaven. Free toys, blankets, snacks AND she gets to watch 5 movies in a row? Doesn’t get much better than that for a kid.

After our first 5 hour flight, Emirates even gave us a free hotel room (and meals) for our 8 hour layover in Dubai.

I must admit, however, that even though I have been a missionary for most of my life, I had some pretty serious culture shock in Dubai (United Arab Emirates). The Dar es Salaam airport, even though it’s an international airport for a city of 5 million people, has only six gates. Six. Yep, just six.

The Dubai airport, in a city where opulence is King and probably even the cockroaches wear gold, has over 200 gates in just one of its terminals. When we landed on the runway, a bus picked us up and we drove for 15 minutes just to get to the terminal.

So yes, on arrival I felt nauseous and panicky and wanted to run right back into my nice safe Dar es Salaam with its six gates.

After an 8 hour layover, we got back on the plane for a sixteen hour flight. Yes, you read that right. Sixteen hours from Dubai to Los Angeles. That’s the longest I’ve ever been on a plane at once, but Downton Abbey made it pretty bearable. And the best part was getting to see the North Pole from 30,000 feet up.

Totally indescribable.

And when we got off the plane, Love was on the other end waiting for us.