I have red nails, clean smooth hair and I’m smelling good. I drink coffee and take long hot baths. I eat too much and things which are too tasty. These are small things that I am happy about after my return. And those I learn by heart before my next trip. I share my time with those I have longed for, but I feel too clearly that it is both – a welcome and a farewell. And yet the journey in which He takes me, in which I first seek Him and know Him, is the first. Before every longing, vision or convenience.
I feel myself somewhere in-between. Between Africa and Europe. Between simplicity and glamor. Between longing for friends from the other side of the world and those I have here for years. Between the last two months in Mozambique, which was an open-heart surgery and a new home that is waiting for me in Africa. Between the English language, in which I can not be completely myself and the Polish language to which I throw myself into the arms of meanings. Between the silence of the fulfilled promise and the challenge of living in it.
I came back with a list of questions I had never asked before. Again with those to which I had answers already. And yet I know that now I am in the safest place I can be with God. For closer to Him than ever before.
I repeat to all, these last two months in Mozambique were like psychotherapy, but led by the Holy Spirit. He looked into the places I hid even from myself. He asked questions that I did not want to face. He took me even closer, from where I do not want to go back anymore. He gave the experience and revelation of joy, with which we were at a distance for years. And depths in relationships that I did not expect.
Listening to the stories of each student of Harvest School 27, it would be difficult to guess that we were together in the same place and time. God has placed people from all over the world in one African city, like in the world laboratory, and He loved each one of us, giving what we needed. None of us left Pemba the same and it can not be reversed anymore. How well.
For the last two months, I have told yes to God more times than through my whole life. And I discovered that it does not matter much until we find ourselves in a specific situation. Until we know what the real price is. Because when the price can mean anything, yes is related to the readiness of our heart. But when the price is set in circumstances, saying yes is about dying.
And once I was dying there severely when God asked me if I was ready to stay in Mozambique right after school, for 10 months, without returning to Poland. Earlier, within a few weeks, I told God several times that I would do everything for Him, regardless of the cost. And when I heard this question, my heart cried no. It was before the head has managed to respond how it should be. And dying began. From counting cost: things, family, friends, affairs, convenience. The order is not accidental and is shameful. I still did not want to, but I wanted to want. And that was enough for God. It is enough for God our no and the desire that He would turn it into yes. Only this. And when I said honest yes, He let me come back. And I am here.
For the first time I really do not have words. I’ve been writing these few paragraphs for over a week and finally, to get out of the awkward situation, I’m writing that I can not write. I can not sum up this time. Collect thoughts. Sort events. I think it’s because I’m in-between. But I will write. I’ll be telling stories. About love. About family. Joy. Intimacy with Him. Questions. About His faithfulness. About dying. About freedom.
By the end of January I’m flying back to my Mozambique again. This time for 10 months, but the commitments indicate that I will be going back there for the next two years. The heart says I will stay much longer. Gratitude is still my favorite word and all my truth. Everything I do and who I am I owe to Jesus. He is first, before every my longing, vision or convenience.
And a few photos, very subjectively.