Eight Years & Counting

Friday marked eight years in Africa. The day came and went without incident. Africa didn’t notice. As if I’ve always been here. Or maybe as if I just arrived. A dear friend remembered and it warmed my day.

I think my perception of my time here is just like Africa’s. In some ways it’s as though I’ve always been here. Feels very much like home. Comfy. Cozy. The only place I’ve ever lived in my “adult” years. I know nothing else. It feels like a very long eight years, longer than the sum total of the rest of my life.

In other ways it’s as though I just arrived. There are times when things are as challenging and difficult as they were eight years ago. There are days when the my heart aches from missing friends and family, when the rawness of my longing for home seems fresh and not eight years old.

Yet there’s still the newness of the adventure that grips me at times – the thrill of being in Africa! The “buzz” of being a missionary. The awe at the amazing beauty that surrounds me. The peace of walking in His will.

Eight years has gone by, yet I am still just beginning.