A Conversation and Closure

I originally wrote this in May 2016 but never published it. I write a lot of things and feel like it's not worth sharing. But coming back to this day, I still feel a lot of this almost a year later. So here it is....

It's been a year and 3 months since I stepped off a plane with a heavy rucksack and bloodshot eyes. I had been traveling for 24+ hours straight and don't know how much I actually slept. I was excited. I was nervous. I couldn't wait to hug family and see friends. I couldn't wait to relax with a cup of coffee and tell stories. I couldn't wait to apply for jobs and ponder the possibilities.

I was warned of the transition struggle. I heard it from long-time missionaries. I heard it from short-termers that adjusted roughly back home after spending 1 year in Malawi. I thought it was hype. I had returned home on 3 different occasions during my time in Africa for short visits. It felt the same when I returned home. I fell into the flow easily each time I returned. I enjoyed those short trips and found them refreshing despite the dreadful travel that accompanied each.

But this is different. Settling back home is harder than I ever imagined. Some days are great. Some days I don't think about Malawi or Uganda. Some days I feel like I never left. I have friends around me, lots of people that I've met since I've been home. I found a church home. I'm working and pursuing a master's degree. I'm able to talk to family without staying up until midnight to accommodate the time difference.

But then there are other days. Days when anxiety creeps in and I get nothing done. Days when I find myself looking back at photos. Days when all I want to do is to visit friends over 7,000 miles away. These days are growing more seldom, but the power of these thoughts & feelings can be overwhelming. I do two things to help me move forward on these days. I downplay the struggle and blame myself for being lazy. I tell myself that it's easy to get hung up on the past because it allows me to shift focus. By remembering the times in Malawi and Uganda, I'm killing time that I should be looking for jobs or studying or connecting with folks at home. The second thing I do is to tell myself that the struggle is selfish. I am focusing on myself and my needs, neglecting those around me. By using these two angles, I'm often able to get out of my funk and move forward, being productive again. But a recent conversation has helped me to use a different angle - not downplaying the struggle but realizing that God is actually doing something with it.


I visited SIM recently to meet with a couple folks. SIM is a mission organization and they are headquartered beside Gordon-Conwell Seminary, where I'm currently taking classes. I knew lots of folks associated with SIM during my time in Malawi and decided to connect with the home office. I went in to chat. I'm not looking to leave the country again nor do I feel called to explore the possibility of missionary positions right now. But I felt the need to talk to someone about being back home. I'm always open for conversations not knowing how God may use relationships for his good in the future. That's why I love meeting new people, our God is unpredictable. So I set up a meeting with a recruiter at SIM.

On the day of my meeting, the recruiter that set up the meeting emailed me and told me that she was not going to be available. But instead, a fellow colleague (Bob Hay) had decided to meet with me. So I went. I stayed at SIM for over 2 hours chatting about Africa and talking about the transition back to the states. As we talked, I mentioned several folks that Bob knew personally. We connected through mutual friendships. When he asked if I knew Sarah Adams before she passed, I teared up. I often talk about Sarah and usually hold back tears. I've talked about our friendship and the lessons I learned from her in so many different situations. Without a doubt, her story is my favorite example of hope and purpose. Her life was short but couldn't have been more powerful. Her story is perfect in so many ways.

Bob recommended a book before I left. "The Art of Coming Home" by Craig Storti. He also gave me a piece of perspective that I will never forget. He has lived in several places in his lifetime, he was in Japan for 11 years, and understands the struggle. He told me that the transition process is actually a grieving process. I had never thought of coming home in that way. Leaving behind a place, domestically or internationally, results in a time of grievance. Things aren't the same and we must adjust internally. I felt differently as I left SIM. I felt like I had found some closure that I've been missing. I'm probably still in the grieving process but I'm learning to cope.

There is no doubt that God intended for me to meet with Bob that day. Looking back, I didn't even know if I would actually visit SIM when I sent the original email. I had no idea what the conversation would look like with the recruiter when I agreed to a day/time. I didn't know that God would use Bob to help me through this time of transition. God works in amazing ways and I don't give him the trust or praise that he truly deserves.

I don't know what the next few months or year holds for me, but I know that there will be good days and there will be "other" days. I'm fine with that. God doesn't promise perfect days void of sadness or struggle. He promises that he is working in those days too. He is wanting me to step up and find him when I'm down. He is asking that I draw closer to him. He wants all of me. He wants me to use the little things to glorify him.

Malawi video

Here's a video with lots of pictures from Malawi.  It also includes my german friends, Veith and Nina.  They arrived in Malawi about the same time and we worked at CURE together.  We also did most things outside of the hospital together.  This is for them.

A Year In Malawi

Living to the praise of His GLORY

The responsibility of leading a jr. high/high school program at a christian family camp felt perfect.  I've had the itch to connect with students since I've been home and this would be  a true test.  My leadership skills would be tested.  My patience would be tested.  And of course, my spiritual health would be exposed.  I was ready for the challenge but I knew that I lacked experience, I would need to fully trust God to see me through.  

As I wrote short talks for each day of program, I thought about my own relationship with Christ.  As I delivered messages on stage in front of a room of quiet teens, I was convicted.  As I had one-on-one conversations with students all summer, memories of my past flashed through my head. 

Whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is greater than our hearts and he knows everything. (1 John 3:20) 

I had to fight back guilt and shame this summer.  I had to remember GOD'S promises.  I had to remember that he is righteous, he is HOLY. 

He forgives entirely,
he heals deeply and 
he restores completely.

I had to remember the good news....the promise that repentance leads to reconciliation.  The promise that God dealt with my sin once and for all.  The promise that his grace is and always will be sufficient.  

Sometimes I convince myself that if I don't pray about a certain sin issue, God will let it slide.  I will be able to hold onto it, learn to live with it.  The idea of total surrender is something that I'm still working towards....the growing pains are necessary. 

Over the summer, several situations arose that forced me to deal with my own heart.  I was brutally honest with my students.  Even though I was a leader and staff member, I am not perfect and didn't pretend to be.  As I look at the spiritual growth that I experienced in a very short time this summer, I'm thankful.  It's never easy but it's always worth it. 

Nothing in creation is hidden from God's sight, everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account. (Hebrews 4:13)


What is the Gospel?
The good news (gospel) is that the just and gracious creator of the universe has looked upon hopelessly sinful men and women and has sent his son, Jesus Christ....who was God in the flesh to bear his wrath against sin on the cross and show his power over sin and death in the resurrection, so that everyone who turns from sin will be reconciled to God forever.

Last days

Headed home.  I'll be back in the states on  the 23rd of February.  I feel like I've hit a wall writing anything but short blurbs that end up in the trash bin.  I think trying to focus on leaving another place that I've grown very attached is too much.  So, I joke and pretend that I'm fine.  The reality is that I'm torn and not even sure that I want to live in the U.S. again right now.  But, we're going to try it and see what happens.  

One realization that continues to pop up is that all of the experiences over the last 2.5 years in Africa have been part of a bigger story.  The friendships, heartaches, revelations, struggles, celebrations all remain with me.  They have shaped my mind and my perspective.  When I return, I won't simply forget about Malawi or Uganda.  The toughest part is leaving friends behind, almost like suspending them indefinitely.  I don't know when I will be back.  

What I do know is that God surrounds you with people with intent and purpose.  My close group of friends in both countries taught me endless amounts about friendship and myself.  I don't know why I started hanging out with one of the security guards at CURE and not the others, but I do know that the wisdom gained from our time together is invaluable.  I don't even know how I became friends with several people here but I do know that I would do just about anything for them.  

My hope is that I return home and love people the way that I have been loved.  I'm not the easiest person to live or be around at times and some people just pushed through it and loved me anyway.  It would be a tragedy to return home as the same person.  Africa was never the final destination and when I contractually agreed, I knew this day would come.  Time to look forward while letting my recent past shape my thoughts and decisions.  

As I was saying goodbye to a close friend yesterday, I found myself just thanking him over and over.  I wanted him to know that his friendship was special and that I didn't take it for granted.  The amount of time that people invested in me was not affected with the knowledge that I would be moving 12 months later.  For me, that's hard to wrap my mind around.  Why get close to someone that you know will leave?  I think that lots of people realize that it's part of their story.  It's the journey that counts and the person may leave, but it will always be worth it.  Always.  

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Lonesome Crowded West....

Traveling home is such a strange experience.  It feels like you're traveling to another planet.  Walking through JFK, seeing a sports bar broadcasting every afternoon NFL game on a wall of TVs feels weird.  A sea of white people.  Thoughts fill my head but there's more confusion than anything.  I remember this place but it's faster.  It's more intense.  The smells.  The noises.  A small dose of anxiety bubbles up inside.

Fast forward 3 weeks.  I'm headed back to Uganda and in need of face wash.  Riding a dirtbike on dusty roads requires a serious wash at night.  I neglected the opportunity to pick some up for 3 solid weeks at home.  I'm close to my boarding time when I pass through security in Charlotte.  I decide that I will wait until Doha (Qatar/Middle East) to pick some up.  I have 3 flights - Charlotte>Philadelphia>Qatar>Uganda.  I know that Qatar is my last chance to pick up something decent.  I know once I touch down in Uganda, everything changes.  At that point, I have left behind the resources, opportunities and possibilities of convenience.  But that's what I know.  Having one or two options simplifies the mess that is life.  Having NO options alleviates frustration, stress and anxiety - things I know too well.

When you've lived in Africa for a bit, your perspective really gets turned on it's head.  You start to realize that simple and basic doesn't mean boring and deprived.  You realize that one or two options is perfectly ok.  You appreciate every little thing.  I heard the term reverse culture shock when I first moved to Malawi in 2012.  But I didn't really think it could be real.  To me, you never forget a place that is home.  NO matter how many years you're away, it's impossible for a place to become unfamiliar and strange.  Impossible.  Or so I thought.  

You don't forget what places look like.  You don't forget how big and spacious offices, houses and stores are at home.  You don't forget about the variety of vehicles on the road.  You don't forget how great it is to ride on smooth roads, void of potholes/cattle/people.  

What does become unfamiliar are the emotions of a place.  The vibes of a city.  The feel of a small town.  The pace of life.  Being tethered to a phone.  Running into people you know unexpectedly.  Hearing news or stories about friends or family regularly.  Having so many options of restaurants that the choice is too much.  Being able to call people when you want.  Being able to check email or facebook whenever you want.  Being able to do laundry in a day.  Going into a store and forgetting why you came because of distractions.  The flow of news and current events everywhere you turn.  The conversations around you.  Knowing what people are saying in an elevator or in a shop.  Things that you would never think affect you, now do.  

What's the point?  Why am I rambling like a crazy guy at the end of the bar?  A couple things hit me as I boarded the plane and prepared to fly back over the Atlantic.  I'm returning to a place that used to be strange from a place that is now strange.   In February, I will go home to Lancaster SC with no return ticket.  For the first time since I moved in 2012, I am ready for something else.  But the last two years have drawn me closer to Jesus and ministry.  The next step probably won't be easy, it may be lots of struggle, but it will be worth it. 

Next stop?  Japan? Atlanta?  Florence, SC?  I don't know but I'm ok with that.  

The road home....

Waiting on a 2pm ride to the airport at a small motel just down the road from the Entebbe airport.  I'm anxious, ready to get home and see friends & family.  But it's only for a short time and I'll be passing this motel again in 3 short weeks heading back to my home in Uganda.  I love going home.  But I also love living here.  My dad recently asked me what I have against living in South Carolina and why would I consider not moving back in January when my current contract expires.  I have absolutely nothing against home.  I have absolutely nothing against Lancaster.  If anything, I appreciate small town life more than I ever did in my entire life.  I understand why people move away from a place for a few years or even a few months, only to return.  I get it.  My heart will always be in South Carolina but I also have a heart for things outside of it.  For the first time in over 2 years, I am thinking about life again in the U.S.  For the first time in a very long time, I am trying to imagine fitting back into life in a place that is familiar but not the place that I used to know.

I admire people that let their hearts lead them.  I admire missionaries that pack up their families and move to places that are detached from anything that resembles the american life.  I admire people that are open to new possibilities and don't rule things out because they fly outside of their comfort zone.  I admire people that step out and take the risk.  It doesn't have to be Africa or even overseas.  Everyone has a different path and some paths are closer to home.  I admire many people back home that are doing things that seem riskier to me than packing up my things and moving to East Africa.

Timing really is everything.  I wasn't ready to leave SC or the U.S. in my 20's.  I would have never appreciated the things that I cherish now.  I don't think I could have dealt with the frustrations and uncomfortable situations in a healthy manner.  I don't think I could have jumped into relationships and spent time with people that are so different from myself.  I don't think it would have worked.  But a few years later, I was prepared.  I was ready.  

I've recently spent lots of time listening to the podcast, This American Life.  I can't get enough and the incredible wi-fi speeds in Uganda often leave me waiting for the next episode to download.  I love stories and the way life is full of twists and turns.  The way that we affect others around us.  The way relationships make up our entire existence.  Everyone has a story.  The little village that my plane will ascend over in a couple hours is full of simple life.  There is no wi-fi.  There isn't electricity.  There may be a TV within a couple kilometers but it's probably tuned to football (soccer) most of the time power is available.  However, in this small remote village, there are stories.  There are relationships.  There is conversation about struggle, hope, God, marriage, finances and children.  It's a simpler life but no less important.  The village life is often filled with happiness and contentment.  Probably much more than many western lives.

I hiked Mt. Wanale a couple weeks ago.  It was a small group made up of my housemates and a couple CURE staffers.  A mix of ex-pats and Ugandans.  It was a fantastic outing and I was glad to finally stand at the top of the mountain that serves as Mbale's backdrop.  It's not a massive climb (less than 2,000 feet) but a beautiful view at the top.  The one thing that I will always remember about this climb is a comment that Moses (CURE co-worker) made during our hike up to the peak.  As we were taking a water break, he said "Life is happening here."  In fact, he said it multiple times during the trip.  I laughed at first.  I thought it was a just a comment to break up the silence among the tired group as we chugged water and caught our breath.  But then it hit me later that day.  He's right.  And although it didn't seem deep when I first heard it, it impacted me than anything else that day.  Life really is happening there.  We passed houses and villagers digging as we followed a narrow dirt path weaving through banana plants and small clusters of houses.  For those villagers, life on the side or top of Mt. Wanale, is more than we see on the exterior.  Life is similar - full of ups and downs, births, deaths struggle, celebration.  Just as important as our lives.  Just as meaningful and unpredictable.  

I recently aquired a sticker from the charity organization, Sevenly.  I pasted it on my laptop because I love it.  It reads "People Matter."  It's simple but perfect for the way I feel about these people that I've had the extraordinary privilege to share life with over the last couple of years.  Next time someone tells you that they are planning on "serving" or "helping" in some poor, developing country.  Do me a favor.  Tell them to have fun learning and gaining more than they could ever imagine.  Because that's what happens.  You can tell them they're awesome because you think they're being sacrificial if you really feel that way, but it's not what you think if you've never been there.  It's a privilege & a priceless opportunity.  It's heartbreaking and breathtaking at the same moment.  It's growth and change.

"Life is happening here."  And at home.  I'm thankful for my friends and family that have stuck with me.  I'm not the best communicator at times but realize the importance of a simple text or message.  I realize the impact that we have on the people around us.  Wherever we happen to be.