Coming home is not always the unmitigated blessing we imagine it to be, particularly when one has been away for some time. Irving's Rip Van Winkle discovered to his dismay that the world he knew when he fell asleep was not the same as he found when he awoke, and Alex's homecoming has already had, and will have some bittersweet moments. Although I know she is happy to see the family which has loved and nourished her for seventeen years, she left a part of her heart in Africa, and already feels the tug of the children there.
Linda had prepared dinner for the family so they wouldn't have to eat out and didn't have to worry about what they would fix when they got home from the airport. She fixed the grandkid's favorite: her signature mac and cheese, which normally would be heaped on Alex's plate. She had a small helping plus some green beans. Her system isn't used to dairy nor the sugar-laden drinks Americans slurp down every day. The fruit smoothie from Tim Hortons went nearly untouched. "It's way too sweet," she said. The cold water however, was a delight she savored. "It's cold, and it isn't dirty," was her only comment. For the past six weeks, she's lived on beans and rice, and what she described as a bitter potato.
She's tired. As we ate supper at 7:30, it was 2:30 am African time, and she hadn't had much sleep, so we shooed them out the door as soon as was polite to do so. And now I get to sit on the back deck with the creek silently flowing and the tiny lights twinkling around the eaves of the garage. I'm thinking of what a wonderful gift it is to have a granddaughter whose heart is expansive enough to take her to Uganda, with all its health and cultural challenges. And I'm thinking of homecoming, wondering if when my time comes, I'll be torn between staying here and going to be with the Lord. It's not a new struggle; St. Paul said much the same when he declared, "I am torn...I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body" (Philippians 1:24-25). Earlier, he put it succinctly: "For me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain." I've known plenty of people for whom this life has become a prison from which they long to escape. Some have done so, taking their own life; others simply waited it out, longing to die. I'm not at either place. God has as the Scripture says, "drawn the lines for me in pleasant places," and I am humbly grateful for all he has given me. Like Alex, I've become acculturated to the world I've inhabited, but which is not my real home. As much as we talk about the glories of heaven, I suspect it will take some getting used to, and I'm not sure how to prepare for it, other than to familiarize myself as much as possible with its customs and inhabitants. It's an odd task, living with one foot in two different worlds, but it is the task to which we as Christians are called. I'm grateful for that calling, even as I'm not always sure what to do with it. At least I've been given the time and the tools to prepare for it. The primary tool is prayer--learning to align my heart with the realities of God's eternity. The time is now, so I think I'll get busy.
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