“This is the last time….”

I have said these words so many times in my life but the time that is most etched in my memory is when I was looking out the back window of our VW van on the road leaving Safi, Morocco. I was 7 years old and my mom had just picked me up from school to tell me that we were leaving immediately that very day (they had 3 hours to pack and leave), escorted by two policeman. (A story for another time.) No time to say “goodbye” to my friends. As we drove away, I remember thinking as I looked out the back window: “this is the last time I’ll ever see this place.”

Today a family left Macha after having spent 8-9 years here building Macha Sports and Learning Project (formerly known as Push The Rock-PTR) and the vision to reach out to the youth of the community with activities and God’s word. Now they have handed over that ministry to the nationals and have made their exit. I’m sure that they have been saying: “This is the last time…” way too often these days.

“This is the last time…we’ll have a picnic on the airstrip.

This is the last time…we’ll see Victoria Falls. (I know I know, most would love to just see them once and would be elated).

This is the last time…we’ll see all the animals that we love so much. As well as the snakes, geckos and spiders that are part of life in Zambia.

This is the last time…we’ll play outside and have a campfire and sleep in our tents, etc…

As they leave, I can’t help but think of the upcoming journey that each of their children will be traveling as they transition to the US. For most people who move, there’s a possibility of coming back for a visit. But when thousands of miles are involved, the likelihood is much smaller. (However, it’s very likely that the Thumas will be making their way back here in the near future). For me, I have yet to have the opportunity to go back to Tunisia. I have had the blessing of returning to Morocco twice so far. The big difference though is that on those trips I was now a “visitor”.

“This is the last time I’ll ride my bike home from school.”

I remember very clearly thinking this when I finished 10^th grade in Tunisia. A troupe of us used to ride our bikes through the busy streets of Sousse, Tunisia to the French school. Even though I sometimes had some “very sticky” Tunisian boys who would follow me, and I had to figure out ways to “loose” them, I still liked riding my bike every day to school. As I happened to see the Thuma’s kids riding past our house coming home from school on Friday I couldn’t help but think with sadness: “this is the last time they’ll ride home from this school, in this place.” I so could relate. For now, the sadness and heartbreak are too real to appreciate the wealth of experiences that they’ve gained by spending these chapters of their lives here in Macha. I pray that with time they will be able to see the value of these opportunities.

“This is the last time I’ll climb my favorite tree.” I remember my favorite fig tree in Morocco.  We used to sit up there eating our lunch.  We spent hours and hours in that tree.  I never thought that I would find another favorite tree.  But surprisingly enough I found another “favorite” tree in Emmaus, Pennsylvania and spent hours in that one as well.  We also found favorite trees in Aix-en-Provence, France.  As time goes on, MKs find the things that they love in every location in which they live.  For me, tree climbing was a staple wherever I lived.  For someone else it might be star gazing, or playing soccer, or swimming, or any other fun activity.  I’ve found that although the tree might be of a different variety and have slightly different qualities, it can still be appreciated and enjoyed.

My heart goes out to Charlotte, Reese and Luca, because in a way I know what they are in for, even though times have greatly changed, and the world is a much smaller place. I know the frustration in missing the only home you’ve ever known, the people who have become not only your friends but also your family. I know the hurt when you feel like the biggest alien in what is supposed to be your homeland, in which you’ve never spent more than a few months. I know the loneliness that this can bring. And I know that they will each deal with this transition in their own way. As much as they are individuals, they will have equally diverse journeys. Please keep them in your prayers. As well as any other MKs that you might know who are going through “culture shock”. Pray for them as they transition to new schools, to a new neighborhood, to living in a city instead of the African bush. Pray that they will always seek out God’s comfort no matter what because He knows and understands what it’s like to leave your home and be an alien in another land. He is the only one who truly knows each and every one of their struggles. Pray that they will eventually understand how much they have gained from the journey they have taken and will go through and find that they are each far richer for it.

“This is the last time, as of now anyway, that the Thumas will be living in Macha”. But I know that God will lead and guide them as they transition and adjust, through tears, through frustration, through others loving them, and mostly through seeking God’s comfort and joy in each and every day.

“Mweende kabotu dear friends…”

“COLORS” by Whitni Thomas

I grew up in a Yellow country

But my parent are Blue.

I’m Blue.

Or at least, that is what they told me.

But I play with the Yellows.

I spoke the Yellow language.

I even dressed and appeared to be Yellow.

Then I moved to the Blue land.

Now I go to school with the Blues.

I speak the Blue language.

I even dress and look Blue.

But deep down, inside me, something’s

Yellow.

I love the Blue country.

But my ways are tinted with Yellow.

When I am in the Blue land,

I want to be Yellow.

When I am in the Yellow land,

I want to be Blue.

Why can’t I be both?

A place where I can be me.

A place where I can be green.

I just want to be green.

(I used to have a poem from another “global nomad” -this sounds more exotic- called “I am green” which I really appreciated. This one is different but still makes the point. It’s good to find other “green” people in life. We’re all odd balls and that’s ok.)