Now that my airline ticket’s been booked, plans are being finalized upon my arrival home, and the countdown has officially begun, I’ve become nostalgic. Although I’m very excited to move back to Portland, I know I will equally miss Kenya once I leave. I’m trying my hardest to focus on the here and now instead of the unknown future. But it’s hard.
I read something that spoke to me recently. Brennan Manning speaks of God’s gift of wonder.
“Life is staggering and we’re just used to it. It isn’t something that restores our perspective or delights us anymore. We’re like spoiled children no longer impressed with the gifts we’re given. It’s just another sunset, just another rainstorm, just another rainbow, just another child being born, just another funeral. We are too busy and preoccupied with ourselves, lead practical lives, and grow complacent, making us immune to the glory of creation. We refrigerate ourselves in summer and entomb ourselves in plastic in winter. We miss the experience of awe, reverence, and wonder. God intended for us to discover His loving presence in the world around us.”
This past year life has slowed down drastically. At first I hated the slowness. Over time I’ve come to appreciate it. It’s allowed me to experience wonder in my surroundings and grow closer to God in new ways.
Running, not on a treadmill in a gym, but outside on a trail as the sun sets and wind blows the grass around me.
I’m reminded of how truly small I am in the world when I look up at the star filled sky every night. I never knew how black the sky was, or how many stars there were.
When every color imaginable appears in the sky for sunsets.
Simply sitting on a patio with teenagers, for hours, laughing and talking about absolutely nothing.
Making babies laugh that were once in a hospital naked, hungry, and abandoned.
Falling asleep every night to the sound of frogs and crickets instead of cars passing.
Reading on a bench for hours with absolutely no agenda.
The slowness this past year has been a gift. It just took me a while to realize it. I don’t want to forget what it feels like here. To have life slow down so much that you can stop to take it all in. To listen to the stillness around me. I’m eager to remember the things I love about Kenya, and to forget the things I don’t.
“Reading on a bench for hours with absolutely no agenda.”
THE BENCH.
Beautiful thoughts Meg. Thanks