I have been back in the States now for over 2 1/2 months. Life is comfortable here. Things work. The roads are safe. Our power is on most of the time. I am surrounded by beautiful mountains and trees and can go hiking out my back door.
Yes. I like it. But I don’t know how to feel about it.
A few days ago I heard a story on the radio about child soldiers in eastern Congo. Even after living in Africa for much of the last seven years and thinking about that reality daily, it was a jarring reminder that at this very moment – and every moment – there is a child hiding in a bush trying not to get shot. There is a woman being raped, and a mother losing a child.
It’s not fair that I can just return to my life here and not think about it on a daily basis.
That very evening after listening to the report on the radio, I got an email from a woman who had come on a Uganda trip I led about nine months ago. She has stayed in touch with her host family in the BeadforLife village where we spent time during the trip. They had recently lost their son and grandson who would be just over a year old now.
It’s just not fair.
A couple of weeks after arriving in Colorado, my five year old son and I were walking in the woods together, throwing occasional snowballs at each other. At one point he stopped and asked “Daddy – is this a dream, or is this real?”
I still don’t know how to answer that question.