We’re back in Tanzania.
During the 26-hour journey home from Australia, I was certain I’d need to soothe frayed nerves and big tears from two little girls.
After all, our beautiful retreat over their summer break had ended. And now, we were hit with the reality of the uncertainty of a home to call our own.
From the sprawling, modern streets of Singapore
to Australia’s charming, beachside calm—
we were now back in East Africa and its power cuts, potholes, and red dust caked on our skin.
But there were no tears.
“What are you looking forward to?” I asked at the start of the long journey, expecting hesitation, or frowns.
Instead, my 8-year-old quipped, “My last KFC at transit!” (In our small town, there are no fast food chains.)
My 6-year-old grinned, “Eating watermelon with a spoon!” (a distinct practice we only do in Tanzania for some reason.)
“And J’s house!” she added—referring to our dear Norwegian missionary friends who had offered us their home while they return to Norway.
What were the chances that our timelines would align so perfectly?
If there’s one thing I’m learning from my girls, it’s this—
to live with open hands,
to delight in small wonders,
to look forward to the next thing—without demanding the full answer.
Instead of demanding the full map,
they delight in the next dot.
Instead of mourning what’s missing,
they marvel at what’s gifted.🎁
So while we’re still living out of suitcases for our third month, I won’t mourn the lack of a permanent shelter—because we do have one.
We’re not homeless, but held. 💛
I’m learning not to define home by permanence,
but by Presence, by Provision,
by the glimpses of grace God gives—
—moment by moment.✨
Because maybe faith is as such…
… not the absence of disruption,
but the presence of delight—
— even if it looks like cold watermelon from a metal spoon.