The imminent end of our six-month furlough triggers critical hindsight. Did we achieve everything we wanted to achieve? See everyone we wanted to see? Buy everything we need to bring back? Inevitably the answers are mixed. Nonetheless, I think we can declare this a successful furlough. We enjoyed loved ones. We were able to be present and serve where we were. Transition brain didn’t completely fog our thinking, swell our tongues, or disable our hands. Our children thrived adding friends, “Aunties”, “Uncles” and surrogate grandparents to the many happy reunions. We shared with more churches than we anticipated, or had ever spoken at before, about the work in Uganda. We swam, a lot. Touched the ocean, climbed fallen redwoods, and meandered through the Blue Ridge Mountains. We almost bought a lap harp, a wave ceramic mug and a pink grapefruit tree. I did buy too many other random little things – compulsive buying is a common symptom of furlough. We slept in (twice!), made music together, and I actually finished two books. Christopher of course read about twenty and added another fifty to our library. We got to celebrate the birth of a dear friend’s baby and another’s grandbaby. We stayed long enough to feel human, instead of a motion blurred facsimile of one.
Now we stare down another goodbye, another transition, another upheaval. We are a people of two homes – familiar with cultures and landscapes half a world away from each other. We are always strangers – uncontrollably, incessantly away and odd. Both places have meaning in our hearts, because they represent what made and shaped us. Both places contain people we love dearly – and miss when separated. Being present concurrently means being absent. In both places we have our routines, our stressors, and our joys. In both places we witness the Lord’s work and the growing of His body. Though either can feel like a dream when not physically present. The edge to dual homeship keeps me from getting too comfortable, too attached to a locale or set way of doing. It reminds me that we live for Christ and the extension of His kingdom, not my own desires or comfort.
As I reflect on our recent experiences the verse that continues to soothe my soul is Psalm 115:1, “Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give the glory for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness.” We have been blessed by churches showering us with love and encouragement. The flesh is tempted to convert the union of the saints into self-praise, as if my contribution to the work was through my own strength or skill. I shudder to consider the result of assimilating that into our work and hearts. This verse became my prayer before and after every speaking event, every time it was possible people honored us more than we deserved, every time I could feel my eyes drifting away from our savior inward. It has steadied me and brought peace in turbulent times. As we return, I pray it again. May we not continue in this work because we’ve grown fond of the adoration of people or seek to be known. Let us press on eagerly to tell the world about the greatness of Christ’s steadfast love and faithfulness for His glory, because we can’t imagine living without it. May we not count the sacrifices made or potential heavenly crowns earned. Let us instead lose sight of everything else as we seek to follow our savior wherever He leads trusting that He will provide sufficiently for our every need.
Our dual homeship loosens our anchor to this world and makes the leaving bittersweet. A greater home calls to us. A deep longing for its eternal shores is stirring in our souls. May we be ready, but for now we live and living is Christ.
Beautifully stated Chloe!!! To God be the Glory!!!