It is 23:44 and I am sitting wide awake while my team snores in the beds surrounding me. We have lived in this 200 square foot room for 2 of the 3 months in Africa. The other month was spent in a house, 2400 square feet of pure openness.
I am sitting here reflecting on all the places we have lived. From the 2 story, 7-bedroom house in Quito, Ecuador where 50 newbies decided to embark on this thing called family, to the tents in a community hall where 12 girls lived in who-knows-where, India. The places we have lived have been many and few months in between. When you think about it, each of these places was technically a house. But what made each of these places go from a house to a home?
Month 1 was spent in a beautiful house with 50 others who pushed each other to our limits. Our house was full of 6 showers, 6 toilets, the most beautiful view of the city you will ever see, flowers, and dogs. The house itself was wonderfully hard; anything would be hard with 50 people. Month 1 was when I learned that a house can be a house but more importantly, it is a home, no matter how hard it was. Month 1 was home because of the times spent crying in the hallway with your best friend. It was home because of the way you could go sit on the swing set at night looking out over the city, asking God why He is so good to you. It was home because of waking up at 5 am, going to get coffee, and spending time with Jesus, because that is when no one else was awake. Month 1 was home because of testimonies, fellowship, breakthroughs, a new normalcy, and friendships that never failed.
Months 2 and 3 were spent at an orphanage, bunk beds, rooms right next to kid’s rooms, a llama, playgrounds, mountains, and 7 girls. We lived in an amazing house, where kids went to have clean clothes, yummy food, and beds or cribs to sleep in at night. But it was so much more than that. It was late nights watching movies in the laundry room waiting for laundry to dry. It was crying together because of depression. It was celebrating thanksgiving and Christmas with new traditions and lots of turkey and Friends episodes. It was being woken up by children screaming and falling asleep to laughter. It was learning to trust that God is good and faithful. It was transition and growth, girls going from friends to sisters. It was learning to sing your words and paint with freedom. It was seeing people brokenhearted to leave and seeing others relieved. It was grace and beauty and exhaustion but so filling all at once.
Month 4 was a transition to India, sleeping in a girl’s dorm, setting up tents on top of bunk beds because ya know, malaria. It was having a curtain separate you from the world, a bathroom with squatties and westerns, community showers, and windows where all the kiddos liked to peak in. It was on the top of a mountain, with the jungle underneath, lots of dirt, and a bamboo platform that overlooked another house with a family that was fascinating to watch. Now, India was no breeze. It was hard and messy. But the house became a home with every testimony shared. It was a home when you waited for someone else to need to pee in the middle of the night so you didn’t have to go into the bathroom alone. It was a home with the vision casting on the hill, the teammates who were called back, the times when spiritual warfare is so strong that teammates burst out into tears and people just surround them in prayer and hope. It was a home when the hard conversations happened. It was home as everyone sat on top of that bamboo platform singing and practicing songs to the ukulele. It was home with every beautifully hard night, realizing how far away from home you were but knowing that you had your people there, so you were home.
Months 5 and 6 were never spent at a consistent house: many different villages, many different rooms, some big others small, all with mosquitoes. We spent time in large community centers with all our tents set up individually, our own little space to call our own. We spent time in rooms where we had to overlap sleeping pads just so 10 of the 12 could sleep. There were times we spent in small classrooms hanging hammocks from the windows, some sleeping in those, others sleeping under them on sleeping pads. It was very inconsistent. The consistency and the home had to come from the Lord. Home came from encouragement circles and finding notes or dairy milk chocolate on your pillow after a long day. Home came from learning to navigate a new team and learning to choose each other. Home came from finding joy in the final destination of the country. Home came from realizing who your best friends are. It came from the spontaneity of soccer games in the rain and singing as much as you possibly could. It came from friends and making fun videos for Valentine’s day. It came from the love of others in the midst of chaos and knowing that even if you don’t want somewhere to be home, it is.
Month 7 was spent in the 200 square foot room. 1 bathroom, 6 mattresses, a stove, deep freezer and 1 outlet, all in the same room. There is a very large yard, full of trees, flowers, and real grass. There were hard time and tensions, almost giving up because community was so hard in a space so small. But oh, how this became home… the most home the last 7 months has felt. There were dance parties had. There were conversations had that made you stop in complete awe and wonder of the Lord. There were more nights than you can count spent giggling, having to calm yourself so you didn’t wake the baby on the other side of the shared wall. There were tears and sacrifices. There were papers taped to the wall with all the prayer requests one could think of and someone on the floor in front of it praying for each specific thing. There were meals made together. There were dreams shared and dreams realized. There was a hope for Africa… there was a hope for each other.
Month 8 we moved. Same town, different house. This time bigger, 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, a full kitchen, a front yard AND a back yard, dining room and living room… with fluffy couches. There were closets and cabinets. Coffee every morning with the kettle. This was by far, the nicest house we had lived in in 8 months. But it was more than that. It was a place where you could wake up at 6 and watch the sunrise with a cup of instant. It was where you ran to your room when you didn’t want to face things. It was a place of midnight kitchen dances and sitting on the counter another night, crying. It was feeling so helpless with situations that you and a teammate sat in a room on your knees, crying. It was where I realized just how important a home actually is and how much I craved it. It was where God showed up every time… just like always. It was full of not knowing what was next and then having it revealed to you. It was having to surrender control to the Lord. It was full of sleepovers and laughter, knowing and understanding that by month 8, your time with your people is limited. It was being frustrated, together. It was celebrating the Lord and all His goodness, being joyful that life is very unknown but the best things begin with a little bit of unknown.
Month 9 we are back in the house we were in month 7. Same grass, same trees, same room and bathroom, same everything, but such a different experience. This time, there is a heartache lingering over us because we know that in a few short, very short weeks, this comes to an end. Living in 1 room with 6 girls is going to be no more. This month is full of fireworks, physically and in relationships with Jesus. It is full of the unknown. This month is home because of the people. It is home because of our ministry hosts and William the dog. It is home because of the talks about home and the way everyone burst into happy tears which turn to still happy, but bittersweet tears. Home this month is the way everyone knows each other on a deep, intimate level because, well, 5 months will do that to you. Home means not having any clothes to call your own, but sharing everything and being okay with it. It means having women who you can call sister for the rest of your life. It is loving each other and all the people around you with a different kind of love: with a love that is from the Lord and nothing can take that away. Home this month is different. Home is the people.
As I reach the end of this crazy ride and experience, this season of my life, I am so incredible grateful for all the houses I have had the privilege of living in and how each one slowly became a home. Each and every place we go has the ability to change our lives if we let in. The good ones, the hard ones, each one. My friend, let them change you. Let the places grow you, let it grow your heart. Let your heart break. Let the hard moments happen. Usher the joyful ones in. Hope when things seem hopeless. Rejoice to the Lord and give thanks in all circumstances. Be present and be home.
