We have been home from Ethiopia for one week and already the vivid memories are beginning to fade (unfortunately, along with my tan) and we are attempting to settle back into normal American life. However, I don't think I can, or ever want, to settle back into normal life. One of my favorite songs by Brooke Fraser has a line that says: "Now that I have seen, I am responsible. Faith without deeds is dead..."
I love Ethiopia. Its a strange feeling to have a harder time with reverse culture shock than with culture shock. Its strange to feel homesick for Ethiopia now that I'm home. And its incredible that in one short week I was bombarded with so many new experiences and stories and sights. How do I begin to process it all?
Some quick stories/memories before I forget...
1. One of the afternoons we were spending time around our guesthouse. I was watching my dad play soccer with Temamen (a.k.a. Trey) and some of the other neighbor boys on the dirt road in front of our house. Tessa was standing cute with her backpack and new headband.
A lady, wearing a headscarf and a long skirt, walked up and started to talk to my dad in Amharic. She had with her a little girl, about Tessa's age, who did nothing but smile. As much as he tried to explain that he didn't understand, the lady continued to talk, speaking increasingly louder and faster. She continued to become engrossed in what she was trying to say, wildly pointing at my dad and at Tessa and then pointing to her own daughter. Her heated one-sided conversation continued until she stormed away. Our dear friend and guard at the guest house attempted to translate a bit of what she had said, but his English was very limited too. All he was able to say was, "She want you go home..." Okay. We thought we had finally come across a mean Ethiopian. Until this point, we had only been welcomed with huge smiles and gracious hospitality.
We were so mistaken. The next day, our host at the guest house spoke with the guard and got the full story. She then spoke with us and told us the true plea behind the lady's loud verbalization the day before. The lady had actually been begging my dad to adopt her daughter as well. We thought she was angry; she was actually pleading on behalf of her daughter. Wow.
2. I started learning three new languages. We stayed at a beautiful guest house about 10 minutes from the Addis Ababa airport; during the week we shared the house with the Ethiopian staff, a French family from just outside Paris, and a German family who was in the process of adopting their son. Our gracious host, Tsebay, was eager to teach me new Amharic words everyday so I could communicate with my new Ethiopian siblings.
One of my favorite nights was spent having dinner and sharing a bottle of wine with the French family. Because only the father could speak English, he acted as the translator between us. We spent the dinner pointing to things and saying the names in both French and English. Margot, the 13-year-old daughter, made me laugh so much and despite the language and age difference, became a quick friend. After dinner, the 10-year-old son, Simon (adopted from Ethiopia as a baby...its hilarious watching an Ethiopian kid in Ethiopia who can only speak French) talked my dad and I into playing cards. We spent the night laughing and goofing off despite the language barrier. A few days later when they left for the airport, we embraced our new friends, so thankful that we crossed paths for a week.
3. Ethiopian coffee is so good.
4. As much as I wasn't really ready to come home, (there was something wonderful about 70 degree weather, a life of simplicity, hospitable and beautiful people, and really great food and coffee) the reunion at the airport was nothing less than overwhelming and incredible. Look at all these people who came! We were bombarded with love and support in such a beautiful way...it was a clear picture of the body of Christ.
5. While I was in Ethiopia, I didn't have much time to myself. I didn't have much time to read the Bible or journal. At first, I was somewhat disappointed, but started to realize that I so often try to "do devotions" with an American mindset - efficient and organized. Instead, God whispered to me some profound things. On Thursday night I wrote in my journal: "Sometimes its just so good to sit and remember who the King is." Another day I wrote: "Adoption - this is what God did for me." These two simple lessons were some of the deepest things I have learned in a long time. And it didn't happen in my efficient, organized devotional time.
I love Ethiopia. Its a strange feeling to have a harder time with reverse culture shock than with culture shock. Its strange to feel homesick for Ethiopia now that I'm home. And its incredible that in one short week I was bombarded with so many new experiences and stories and sights. How do I begin to process it all?
Some quick stories/memories before I forget...
1. One of the afternoons we were spending time around our guesthouse. I was watching my dad play soccer with Temamen (a.k.a. Trey) and some of the other neighbor boys on the dirt road in front of our house. Tessa was standing cute with her backpack and new headband.
A lady, wearing a headscarf and a long skirt, walked up and started to talk to my dad in Amharic. She had with her a little girl, about Tessa's age, who did nothing but smile. As much as he tried to explain that he didn't understand, the lady continued to talk, speaking increasingly louder and faster. She continued to become engrossed in what she was trying to say, wildly pointing at my dad and at Tessa and then pointing to her own daughter. Her heated one-sided conversation continued until she stormed away. Our dear friend and guard at the guest house attempted to translate a bit of what she had said, but his English was very limited too. All he was able to say was, "She want you go home..." Okay. We thought we had finally come across a mean Ethiopian. Until this point, we had only been welcomed with huge smiles and gracious hospitality.We were so mistaken. The next day, our host at the guest house spoke with the guard and got the full story. She then spoke with us and told us the true plea behind the lady's loud verbalization the day before. The lady had actually been begging my dad to adopt her daughter as well. We thought she was angry; she was actually pleading on behalf of her daughter. Wow.
2. I started learning three new languages. We stayed at a beautiful guest house about 10 minutes from the Addis Ababa airport; during the week we shared the house with the Ethiopian staff, a French family from just outside Paris, and a German family who was in the process of adopting their son. Our gracious host, Tsebay, was eager to teach me new Amharic words everyday so I could communicate with my new Ethiopian siblings.
One of my favorite nights was spent having dinner and sharing a bottle of wine with the French family. Because only the father could speak English, he acted as the translator between us. We spent the dinner pointing to things and saying the names in both French and English. Margot, the 13-year-old daughter, made me laugh so much and despite the language and age difference, became a quick friend. After dinner, the 10-year-old son, Simon (adopted from Ethiopia as a baby...its hilarious watching an Ethiopian kid in Ethiopia who can only speak French) talked my dad and I into playing cards. We spent the night laughing and goofing off despite the language barrier. A few days later when they left for the airport, we embraced our new friends, so thankful that we crossed paths for a week.
3. Ethiopian coffee is so good.
4. As much as I wasn't really ready to come home, (there was something wonderful about 70 degree weather, a life of simplicity, hospitable and beautiful people, and really great food and coffee) the reunion at the airport was nothing less than overwhelming and incredible. Look at all these people who came! We were bombarded with love and support in such a beautiful way...it was a clear picture of the body of Christ.
5. While I was in Ethiopia, I didn't have much time to myself. I didn't have much time to read the Bible or journal. At first, I was somewhat disappointed, but started to realize that I so often try to "do devotions" with an American mindset - efficient and organized. Instead, God whispered to me some profound things. On Thursday night I wrote in my journal: "Sometimes its just so good to sit and remember who the King is." Another day I wrote: "Adoption - this is what God did for me." These two simple lessons were some of the deepest things I have learned in a long time. And it didn't happen in my efficient, organized devotional time.
