When I arrive in Poland, all the Mozambican hardships are forgotten. My experiences flatten out on the way to the airport. I can at best count them, and not very conscientiously. The time that has passed is shortened, as if these long months were just a hazy moment. A brief memory. And yet they are my main story in life.
Because now, for this moment, it is good. I survived. Another year of walking on water. A reality that does not require faith from me at every step. I can walk around in sight a bit. (Can this be understood without experiencing it together with me?) And that is what I sometimes need. Non-challenges. Oh, how sweet they can be.
Only the notes from the past year remind me how much it has contained. How much I carried, how much I abandoned. All the emotions, screams, my own struggles and final peace in Him. How much we have been through together. How many times I did not want to continue to walk and how many times I set off again. Ultimately, all the battles were won. Unimaginable fatigue. And gratitude in the Presence. Grace upon grace. So obvious now.
Poland helps me regulate myself. Here I can cool down. Here I gather strength for new things.
But that distant country is not so distant anymore.
I wrote on the last day before leaving: “For the first time I am not taking the most important things from Mozambique, in case I never come back here. For the first time I am leaving most of my jewelry and my camera. And notebooks with letters to my boys. For the first time I am not dreaming about cool evenings in a big city and walking with a cup of hot coffee in my hand. Although it will be very nice to make such dreams come true.
For the first time I am leaving my home here and going to visit Poland.”
It took seven long years. Although God made me a home from Mozambique during my first trip there. This has been my identity from the beginning. And my certainty in Him about the way. About the place. Not to be shaken by either circumstance or lack. But my Polish soul felt for a long time that it didn’t fit in. Uncomfortable. Tired. Not noticing beauty. Until I found in myself an agreement to Mozambique as it is. Incomparable to Poland. Separate. In an African dimension and scope. Until joy came.
I also agreed to collect. A washing machine. Two tables. A couch and two armchairs. A stove and a gas bottle. Things too big to pack and return to Poland. Things that cost money and belong forever to Mozambique. I began to settle down.
I don’t know yet what kind of return I will have. The summary is still being completed within me. And the plan is on its way. But there is more and more peace in me. Stability. If there is any constant in missionary life apart from Him.
My multidimensional home.
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