... then I'd have to say there are days that I feel like The Very Worst Missionary. There's another missionary out there in blog-land (and in real-life too) that's dubbed the pen-name, Jamie, the Very Worst Missionary. And there are times I can't help but think to myself, "Yea, me too."
There are days I don't want to go to volunteer at the school.
I don't want to get dressed and get my two-year old out of the house before 7:30 am. Not because I'm lazy, or not a morning person (which I'm not, but that's not why, I promise), but because he's 2. Two years old. And I just want to stay home, cuddle in bed with him, play in his room with him, put puzzles together, bake banana muffins, play soccer in the hallway, chase the dog out in the yard and go for a walk to the park. I want to soak up every last minute of his toddlerhood before I blink and he's 6 and he has to go to school.
There are weekends I don't want to go to the village.
Teaching every day is taxing. By the end of the week I'm Ready (with a capital R) for the break. I want to be in my PJ's all day, or at least all morning. Spend time enjoying the little boy that calls me 'mama', trying to make up for the times during the week that I wasn't there, or that I was too tired to play, or that I was too busy cooking dinner to "come play in my room, mama".
There are Sundays that I crave our church.
There are Sundays I don't want to struggle to understand the broken English of the speaker. Sundays that I want to worship with music that speaks to me, and in words that I understand. Sundays that I don't want to have to hide my boys ears from the way-too-loud-poor-quality-speakers-that-will-surely-puncture-our-eardrums. Sundays that I want our son to be in a content-rich classroom worshiping and learning about God with kids his age.
There are evenings I don't want to spend 3 hours making a meal. I want to pop a Trader Joe's meal in the oven and call it good.
There are days I don't want to wade through rotten, stepped on fruits and vegetables, locals calling "Rafiki, mama, karibu, karibu!" just to get some carrots.
There are days I want to count on a paycheck landing in our account every Friday.
There are days I don't want to try and plan our whole week out because we don't have our own car.
There are days I don't want to sit in a power-less room that's about 100* hot.
There are days I just don't want to think, just want to be, don't want to struggle, just want to be, don't want to try and prove ourselves, just want to be.
I'm not trying to throw a pity party, or get sympathy. I'm just being honest. I want it known that while we are in love with our new lives in Moshi and we know we are doing what God has called us to (and are happy to!), that sometimes, there are days. Everyone has them. So do missionaries.
So to those of you that pray, please don't stop. Every day is a challenge, and we know that prayer can keep us afloat. We know that prayer can keep the enemy from feeding lies into our world, and we appreciate (and covet) every single prayer that comes alongside us, believing only the very-best for what God has for us, and wants to do through us, here in Tanzania.
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