Just Did It

... part 2 of our "Just Do It" story continues here, if you aren't caught up hop on over and read Part 1 HERE. 

I clicked the RESERVE button and a new screen popped up after a few minutes (dial-up speeds, remember?).  It said something like, "Please go to your nearest office to pay, your tickets have been held for 48 hours."

Just Do It

What a slogan. I like the shoes, but sometimes it's hard for me to "just do it."
Whether I like it or not, my life and my choices are constantly being looked at, and sometimes even being judged. It comes with being human. It's magnified with being a Christian. And sometimes, unfortunately, it's directly related to our income as missionaries.

Adventures of a Third Culture Kid: Snot Edition

Last Sunday we were blessed to spend a relaxing, low-key afternoon with some dear friends that are now taking their furlough in America.  It was a lovely afternoon, chilled by some cloud cover, filled with the fragrance of fresh-baked quiche for lunch, and the crunch of our home-grown salad was still lingering in the air.  It was a time for us to have one last hurrah before their departure, and it was a refreshing, soul-satisfying time.
Much to my surprise, candles were lit upon the lava cake, the Song was sung, balloons were played with, and we retired to the living area for coffee and conversation.
That's when it happened.

When There is No Light at the End of the Tunnel {and You Just Want Your Fat Pants}

Tanzania is home.
It's been home in our hearts for 3 years, and in reality for about 2 years.
We love it here.  Really.  We love the culture, the weather, the people, the life... all of it.  We don't always like the bugs or the dust or the way things work (or... don't), but this is home.
This. Is. Home.
I've been saying that over and over and I truly feel it.  When we were in the States on furlough last summer, we were pretty much ready to come back after about 2 weeks.  People would ask us if we were enjoying being back in the states and our response was almost always, "Yes, but we're ready to get back to the normalcy of home."
We were so glad to get back here, too.  To sleep in our own beds, to get back into the routines of life in Moshi, to catch up on what had happened since our departure. It was glorious.
But what we didn't realize at the time, is how much that tiny pinhole of a light makes a difference. 

The One Where We {accidentally} Drive Our New Danish Friends to Kenya

"It's not too far," they said.
"You shouldn't have too much trouble finding it," they said.
"Just follow the directions on the paper," they said.

Until we reached the customs gate at Kenya.

Let me back up...

Stranger Danger

Growing up I was well aware of 'stranger danger'.  You know: don't take candy from strangers, don't get into a car with strangers, don't talk to strangers.
Now a'days stranger danger takes on a whole new meaning with the word wide web.  When I get email from someone I don't recognize it almost always gets deleted immediately.  When someone asks to be my friend, or sends me a message on Facebook, I always check their profile and our mutual friends first.  If there are no mutual friends I'm especially careful about accepting friend requests, and 99% of the time I don't.
But.
On Wednesday we drove an hour to the Kilimanjaro International Airport to hug a lady & her husband passing through from California.  I'd never met her before in my life, but her hug was the warmest, most sincere hug I'd never expected to experience.

Sleep, Sweet Sleep

After a long day of helping friends move, I came home with the bear and since it was well past his nap time, we agreed to watching a couple episodes of Mickey in bed to rest.  At 4:15 his show was over and he came over, laid his head on my chest and wrapped his arm around my waist.
I was in heaven.

The Poison Apple

"We played a game at play time today, the Poison Apple Game."

Oh yea?  How do you play that game?

"Well, Joe* had an apple and he gave it to me and I ate it and then I fell down."

You ate a poisoned apple? And then you fell down?

"No. I didn't eat a poison apple!"

No, no, no I know you didn't eat a real poison apple - but in the game you ate a pretend poison apple? And then it killed you?

"Yea! It was just pretend."

Oh, okay, so then what?

"Joe prayed for me and I got up!"

Wow! So Jesus healed you?

"Yep. He prayed for me and Jesus got me up!"


// Let me never take for granted that my child, at three years old, thinks miracles of rising the dead and supernatural healing are such a normal part of life that it becomes a playground game. //


*name changed for privacy

A New Normal

Honored to be guest posting on Rachel Pieh Jones' blog this week!  She's an amazing writer and fellow missionary I've gleaned a lot of wisdom from over the years. 


The majestic Mount Kilimanjaro looks over me, appearing so giant and crisp in the early morning it looks like a cardboard cut-out God plopped near this small, dusty town.

As I meander through the market watching carefully where I place each step, I barely notice the layer of dirt that covers my feet. I pick through heaps of shoes and clothes as the owner of the stall sits atop her loot, having a casual conversation with me in Swahili. Driving down the road it's nearly second nature to swerve for potholes, pedestrians, bicyclists, motorcycles and busses. Driving three cars wide on a two lane road is not uncommon, nor is stopping along my route to buy bananas for six cents each from a Mama that's carrying them on her head. My three year old son asks anxiously, “Can I pay the worker?!” when we pull into the petrol station. He hands the money through his open window and says, “Naomba receipti tafadhali.” I never thought this would be my normal.

... continue reading over at Rachel's Blog:  Djibouti Jones