I waited two weeks to have that wave of peace come over me and to finally rest in knowing we were here for the long run. It was probably more like two years, if I’m honest.
I thought about that moment so much. The week before we left when I was exhausted from going and going and going and saying goodbye after goodbye: I thought about that moment.
When we left for language school I thought about that moment when we would be in Niger, unpacking our suitcases and feeling that peace.
When we were in the midst of cross-cultural training I thought about that moment. And when we were busy with an online language class and support raising, I thought about that moment. When we first got the call from God to go to the edge of the Sahara desert, I thought about that peaceful moment when there would be no more waiting. No more planning.
When we walked through security at the airport I thought, “only 24 hours and I'll feel peace about being there.” But (spoiler) it was way more than 24 hours. Because it was 2 weeks before I felt like I had time to breath. Through sickness (and then with the next child) and moving and moving again, and those expectations I didn't know I had but were disappointing when they didn’t happen. Like having all our luggage. Having a stroller for my twins who hate walking to give me some semblance of independence. Then there were all the little things and big things alike that just piled on top of each other (side note: “piled” was just auto-corrected to “puked” and that isn't a bad way to put it either).
Then, finally. I could breathe in as I hung the clothes on the clothesline and I could thank God and be at peace that we were finally where we were supposed to be. No more restlessness. No more thinking about the next thing. No more making friends knowing we were leaving soon. No more looming transitions (for a while at least). No more. Just finally being in one place until we are called elsewhere. Just peace. Resting in the sweet peace of being home.
For now, at least.
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| This is the view down our street with the ever present, noisy goats. |
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| A roundabout in our city that our kids call the "egg." |
You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.
Isaiah 26:3
