Emptying the guesthouse we are staying in for our own furniture from our old house to come in was a bit of an emotional moment for me.
It seemed so simple and mundane- but took the love and heart of a community for this to happen.
- Norwegian missionary friends who hosted us here and cared for us
- Australian missionary friends across the road who helped store the rest of our suitcases and items
- A landlord willing to bring in guys to move their own furniture out
- Our Tanzanian friends coming to help us move in our own furniture from our old house.
What a collective effort from a community!
I spent days processing this new transition with our kids. Not knowing how to break the news to them that we might not be able to take over the lease of this home after all after a rude price jack, I realized they didn’t care.
They cared about our daily routines, our everyday rituals, our time spent together. And when all the furniture was gone and I sat in a corner letting the tears flow, my girls, totally oblivious, bounced in and announced, “Oh wow, look at this! It looks like a dance floor! For a party!“
“Yes!” I laughed through my tears. “Picnic breakfast on the floor tomorrow! How fun!”
And I woke up this morning to my older girl busy at work, packing her lunch to school because she doesn’t like one particular local dish which I don’t blame her for because it’s a dish I don’t like myself- and she goes, “Mama, I want to write a love note for little sis like how you write one for me too. Wanna do it together?”
