Worlds apart

From coast to coast...
...from England to Tanzania...
...two beautiful countries, but worlds apart…

I’m home, that means I am back in Tanzania, and it’s that same feeling once again...that the last two months never happened. Tanzania is worlds apart from England. There seems to be nothing which connects the two lives. It’s a strange feeling. It leaves an uncomfortable sense of disconnectedness in relationships. When I was in England I seemed able to pick up my friendships so easily and naturally, but now I am back it’s almost hard to believe that England exists and those people continue with their every day lives. I love them dearly and I miss them and yet at the same time it’s not as painful as I expected because they’re somehow part of a different life, another world. I think it’s always harder for those left behind. A shame we can’t take our friends with us everywhere and share the experiences together, so that this strange disconnectedness is removed.
That leads me onto another thought…how missionary life is one of constant transition, constant comings and goings – either yourself or your friends never seem to be in one place for very long. It’s one of the hardest things about life here. Every new place we go we have to start again, making new friendships, or if we remain behind as close friends go on, new relationships need to be formed to fill the void. As people come into our lives at different stages they only ever get to know a part of us, unless you make the effort to dig deeper and are willing to make yourself vulnerable. But then comes the pain once again of making a deep friendship, only to have to say goodbye after a year or two. It’s hard to do that over and over again and I think it is particularly hard for singles who face these changes alone.
Anyhow, back to my return to Tanzania… arriving did feel very much like ‘coming home’, which was a relief! I wasn’t sure how it would be, after my trip to England ended up being twice as long as I’d planned. Unfortunately there is one thing from England that has travelled with me – the scar on my arm. Every time I take off my pressure garment I wince in pain – both physical and emotional, as the ugly red patch of skin is revealed. The thought of wearing these things on my arm for two more years is not a nice one (even though they really don’t look that bad – they just make my arm look very small!)
I had a lovely time with friends and family in England, despite my accident, and I am thankful to God for those special shared moments we had. I am also thankful to be back amongst my close friends here, and hope that whatever happens in the future, I will still be able to invest in the friendships I have right now, trusting that God will provide for my relational needs (as He promises to do – Mat. 19:29) when and if they or I leave.