I’m leaving behind this place I have called home for three months. The constant water on the floors every day. The barred windows that trap in bugs, grease, and air. The huge doors that are either always open or slamming shut. The long lines to cook breakfast or clean the dishes. The mornings when no one is in the common room and you feel the morning breeze while you journal. When you get woken up by the rain hitting the tin roof. The way you have to fight to talk to your family and tell them everything that has happened the last two weeks. The long walk we take willingly to see our kids. Sitting out on the verandah watching the sunrise or running in the rain to capture a glimpse of the thunderstorm. The way the bathroom smells after it’s been cleaned. Spending focused time in scripture and being surprised by a cup of coffee. Wrapping up in a long sleeve when mornings are cold and dreary. Chugging a whole bottle of water after being in 104 degree heat. The way Swazi has turned from desert to oasis. The way the kids run to us everyday at ministry, smiling and jumping into our arms. The way Saturday is partly spent cooking for forty people. When you can walk into the dining hall and always finding someone in the word. How books are commonly read here. Stopping during worship to see everyone uniquely in a different position. Seeing the dishes pile and pile but then someone takes a few minutes to put it all away. The way cold jelly refreshes my pb&j rice cake. Always knowing the small pot is gluten free. Reaching across another sink just to grab the soap. Spending hours and hours in darkness, sometimes by choice, sometimes by the fact we haven’t had power in over 24 hours. Occasionally pouring water in the tank of the toilet so it will flush. Looking up at night and seeing the Milky Way. Meeting a woman once and her recognizing you after that, every time. The way women hug, kiss and hold hands as a part of culture here. The way we spend hours and hours in worship and everyone still wants to be there. When it’s natural to see someone painting. Seeing everything and anything trying to be stored in the freezer. Always finding a good excuse to buy an energy drink. Justifying milkshakes and fries. How natural it is to talk about the Lord here. How fun it is to spill water on the floor and sweep the mud out. I’m going to miss having my feet in the soil of Eswatini. Everything about this place is home and I want to carry that with me everywhere I go. Oh the way one tears up as they speak of the Lord. When we sit on the veranda for David’s class listening to heartfelt poems or poems of a joking manner. I’m just going to miss it. The way the light shines through the windows and makes the room gold.
