In the free online dictionary furlough is defined, “ A leave of absence or vacation, especially one granted to a member of the armed forces.” or “A leave of absence from prison granted to a prisoner.” hmmm…
As a missionary, I am neither in the military nor, despite some tired and grumpy posts over the past year, do I live as a prisoner in Malawi. But this is our family’s leave of absence. We have had some amazing vacations in the midst of it – the Outer Banks with Jeff’s family, days and weeks in Fort Wayne, a surprise trip to Chicago, and a beautiful adults’ only weekend in Asheville – but this time in the US has been hard to define and awkward to live into.
We’re home long enough for Jeff to get a job that will fund our next year. And long enough to remember the stress and day-to-day grind that he left behind. We’re home long enough to slip into patterns and routines like story time at the library and GNO on Tuesdays. We’re home long enough to forget our Chichewa. And long enough to put on a few pounds.
But we’re not home long enough to unpack our bags completely. We’re not home long enough to finish the novel that I started. We’re not home long enough to finish mulching the yard at the gray house. We’re not home long enough to see our family as much as they’d like. And we’re not home long enough to feel at home.
One of my first posts when we returned reflected on the lack of people out in the neighborhood – and it felt strange and eery after living in Malawi for nine months. But as I walked those same streets today it felt normal and peaceful. And I realized that returning to the hustle and bustle and crowded streets of Malawi will take some re-adjusting again.
During these three months I have never doubted our call and resolve to return to Malawi. But I have also never wished away the time here. Each day is a gift and a joy. Texting and calling. Eating and drinking. Laughing and embracing. Sharing and witnessing. Working and playing. What a journey we are on.
But now I can almost feel my heart turning with me, turning towards Malawi. The last couple presentations about Malawi and the Malawi UMC have left me wanting more, wanting to stand with the women I’m talking about, laugh with the pastors I admire, pray and sing with the churches we love, and cry with those who have lost loved ones while we were away.
So I look forward to August, of drinking deeply of each experience, each relationship and each encounter. They fill me and and give me strength to share with those who await us at home.
beautiful post!