People ask how I’m handling being home, and the truth is, I’m doing well. Really well.
Though I have my hard moments, I feel like I am embracing this post-Africa season of life, enjoying my family and jumping back into my place here.
I watch my life mission solidify piece by piece and my heart soars with the dreams I hold close.
I smile, look into the face of the joys and challenges the coming months and years hold, and prepare to stand firm. The challenges are there. They crash in every so often and surprise me.
Though I handle it well, being thrown from third-world to first-world in a day, or like in SA, multiple times day, are sometimes hard to deal with. Even last night, as a thunderstorm storm blew in and crashed around us, I fought with myself and the struggle of it all.
The violence of the storm mirrored the battle I was facing, but just as all storms do, it raged for a time and then blew on out. I ploughed through the hurt of not having the African little ones I love near.
I must sit with fact that I am here, and they are there. That is the hurt, that is the struggle, and though I know God is their Daddy, and I must give them up to Him.
God is such a good Father, and I know it’s only His grace that has allowed me to transition well into big-and-busy American life. The struggle is there, but so is He. And He outweighs the pain with His grace and love every time, and leaves me so thankful for His Africa and the journey He allowed me to walk through there.