We arrived on American soil late yesterday, the 29th.  I was up at 3:30 this morning with my internal clock on Africa time ~ they are 7 hours ahead of us.  So it was 10:30 on Friday morning there.  We both are over-flowing with blogs but want and need time to process all that we experienced ~ quite different this time.  Jessie wrote of the bed-bug bites, and she stopped at the agriculture desk at immigration yesterday.  We were told not to bring our luggage or clothes in the  house other than to take them straight to the washing machine.  Also to spray our luggage with Lysol.  My rolling duffle has had it anyway so it is in the trash.  I literally unpacked in the garage and stripped down and went straight to the laundry room and then the shower.  Do you remember the old joke about the old men and women in the nursing home?  The women decided to streak the men.  As they went by one old man said:  “what was that?”  Another said:  “I don’t know but it needs ironing.”  If anyone had seem me that is what they would have said!

My camera and lap top is in Jessie’s luggage so I cannot even send you a picture of some of the amazing things we saw and did.  Her last picture of the young boy and the goat almost tells it all.  I told Jessie that artists have such an extra gift of conveying feelings as they paint ~ musicians can compose to express the same.  Folks like me, neither a painter nor a musician have to struggle to find words and in somethings we are wordless.  For now, with much more to come, I will say I was again humbled by their love for God and for each other.  Jessie has some wonderful thoughts about egos and I hope she will write about that.   She’s quite right and profound with those thoughts.

When we arrived in Dodoma we were both given gifts with this note:  “Welcome Home” which makes me ask that question:  “Where is home?”  Something to think about by William Stafford.

CONCURRENCE

“For intervals, then, throughout our lives we savor a concurrence, the great blending of our chance selves with what sustains all chance.  We ride the wave and are the wave.  And with renewed belief inner and outer we find our talk turned into prayer, our prayer turned into truth: for an interval, early, we become at home in the world.”

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