it was a long drive from the city to the bush. miles upon miles of desert. rocks. dirt. repeat.
i talked some. but some of the time i found myself quiet. sitting. staring. wondering what this whole thing could turn into.
{don't panic yet. wait it out, sweet people. keep reading.}
days spent in the bush. alone to talk with our Daddy. to see what His plan is for this place i call home. and it turned into something i wasn't expecting.
He shook me up.
He. shook. me. up.
i mean...let's be real...i am already shaken. stirred. all that jazz. i mean for Pete's sake....i am living in Africa.
but here is the deal.
i live here with white knuckles. it's a regular occurence in my life. probably in yours too.
we know He has control. He writes the story. but goodness...i like to hold on to what i THINK should happen. where i THINK i should go. how long i THINK i should be there.
He loosened my grip. held my hand. and eased my fears. all in the middle of the desert.
but not without standing firm in His endearing, stern Daddy voice...the one that makes me stand at attention and not question His plans.
so i am sure of a few things. He is good. His plans for me are good. Africa has STOLEN my heart. the Somali people...are for me to love.
so i will come home. for a while. {no freaking out, please}. spend time with family. get a big girl job. spend every waking moment with people i love more than life.
learn to drive a stick.
look at somali. prepare to learn it once i get back somewhere.
get credentials.
i am confident that He has it together.
and that means my no running water needed, Africa loving, baby holding, moutain climbing man of a husband too. Africa has made my prayers for him increase to new heights. and i am pretty sure he is a baller.
so a long blog post to say what could be said in a sentence.
He writes beautiful stories. sends us to perfect places. lets us love an imperfect people. and helps losen our grip in the middle of a dry land.
mungu ni muema.
i talked some. but some of the time i found myself quiet. sitting. staring. wondering what this whole thing could turn into.
{don't panic yet. wait it out, sweet people. keep reading.}
days spent in the bush. alone to talk with our Daddy. to see what His plan is for this place i call home. and it turned into something i wasn't expecting.
He shook me up.
He. shook. me. up.
i mean...let's be real...i am already shaken. stirred. all that jazz. i mean for Pete's sake....i am living in Africa.
but here is the deal.
i live here with white knuckles. it's a regular occurence in my life. probably in yours too.
we know He has control. He writes the story. but goodness...i like to hold on to what i THINK should happen. where i THINK i should go. how long i THINK i should be there.
He loosened my grip. held my hand. and eased my fears. all in the middle of the desert.
but not without standing firm in His endearing, stern Daddy voice...the one that makes me stand at attention and not question His plans.
so i am sure of a few things. He is good. His plans for me are good. Africa has STOLEN my heart. the Somali people...are for me to love.
so i will come home. for a while. {no freaking out, please}. spend time with family. get a big girl job. spend every waking moment with people i love more than life.
learn to drive a stick.
look at somali. prepare to learn it once i get back somewhere.
get credentials.
i am confident that He has it together.
and that means my no running water needed, Africa loving, baby holding, moutain climbing man of a husband too. Africa has made my prayers for him increase to new heights. and i am pretty sure he is a baller.
so a long blog post to say what could be said in a sentence.
He writes beautiful stories. sends us to perfect places. lets us love an imperfect people. and helps losen our grip in the middle of a dry land.
mungu ni muema.
