Settling in

"November 7^th we were heading to our last service in the good ole' US of A. A whole week has gone by since then. Already! As I sit pondering the past several days, a cup of Rooibos tea for company, I reflect on God's goodness. No accidents in our last year of traveling around the country – 8,000 miles covered – and the trip over here on the 9^th went as smoothly as an 18hr plane ride with 30 pieces of luggage and 8 kids in tow possibly could.

Once on the plane, anticipation flows freely from all. It's just one of those things that you try not to let yourself get too excited about until you're on your way there. Otherwise, moments are lost and looking back, you wish you would've enjoyed the simplest of things. We had clear skies while flying and if we were low enough, could see oceans, deserts, mountains, and got our own uneducated 18-hour tour along the way.

Hugs from fellow missionaries were waiting for us at the entry gate and it was then that I had time to stop and sigh, “It's good to be home again.” Whoever originally said, “Home is where the heart is.” just might have had a missionary in mind. After loading up, we traveled to Sondela to stay the evening in a private rented-out house. It just wouldn't have felt like home without the full power outage that was waiting for us... The house was in the bush and by now it was quite late and the Wyatts gave us a blind tour of the place. I joked, “I don't think I've ever stayed anywhere where I've had to save the compliments until 6 hours after 'seeing' it!”

And a whole month has gone by since the above was penned, putting it in the "old news" category. Much more was documented concerning our arrival but following is a not-so-old 2-weeks-ago-update:

"Saturday morning we were out of the house by 8:30, heading to the tombstone unveiling (note: not funeral) of a church member's aunt who died this past year. On the way there, Derek and I were talking and I mentioned the “grave opening,” then caught myself and we both started laughing. Thankfully, it didn't turn out to be any such thing. :)

At the house, Dad walked around with a little marker-board with questions about God written on it to arouse curiosity in people. Some ladies cleared off couches in the house to make room for us so while Mom and the kids took seats, I went around to the other side of the house where the ladies were cooking. I asked if I could help and after going through a couple of ladies who just smiled at me and obviously didn't understand my offer, a lady told me I could make the coleslaw for the afternoon meal. 

(Why did the chicken cross the road?)

Another lady took Juli across the yard to cut up frozen chicken. Derek slipped Dad's phone out of his pocket and deftly took pictures. At one point, he was just standing around and Juli and I told him, “Hey, there's a lady cutting wood.” We thought he was going to help as he walked towards her, only to see him pull out the phone and take a picture. :)

Long story made shorter, after the tented service at the house (where the family sang), we went to the village graveyard. The grave had a sheet over the stone, and half-way through the service it was pulled off to reveal the design and inscription (hence, the "tombstone unveiling" term for the occasion). The ZCC man leading the service passed around a plate of biscuits/cookies and each of the relatives took a bite, then spit it on the nicely decorated grave, pouring water on it as well. I asked a friend why this was done but he said it was the first time he'd seen it."

A couple days after that service, I went to help another missionary family move into a new house and have spent the past 2 weeks with them. Now that they're all settled, we're hosting a missionary Christmas party here! My nanny skills will be stretched tonight but we're going to have so much fun! The fellowship has been sweet the past couple weeks and is just going to get better over the next few days.