On Our Way

Tolland and Greg say good-bye on the last day of school.

Chabonwa, hanging out with Kathy at the house.

It is Tuesday morning, in Lusaka, the capital city Zambia. We are enjoying the hospitality of Flying Mission’s guest house at their Chilongola base. In just a few hours we will be driven to the airport and begin our 32 hours of travel back to Minneapolis where LeeAnn and Tara will be waiting for us.

The original plan was to fly out yesterday but our airlines sent us an email saying they’d cancelled our Monday flight and put us on the Tuesday flight. The problem was they neglected to change the rest of our connecting flights; when we read through to the end the total length of our trip was -9 hours! We thought “we're traveling a time machine!” 

It took most of Sunday to correct the error, but we finally got it all squared away. Talked with our bush pilot, Guillermo, and decided to fly out of Macha on Monday, and stay at the guest house overnight, then fly out of Zambia as now scheduled on Tuesday.

Thinking back, we've experinced a mixed bag of emotions. First when we found out that we couldn’t fly out on Monday, I (Kathy) was disappointed to tears! When the time came to go home, I just wanted to get there, without delay! But then when we finally started to taxi down the airstrip, with friends waving good-bye, I was sad to leave.

LeeAnn had asked me what I would miss most about Macha. I told her that there is so much hardship in living there that “life in Macha” would be easy to leave behind. It is the emotional ties with people, the relationships that tear up your heart.

There’s eight year old Tolland. If any one of the kids could easily turn to life of waywardness, even crime, this little guy could. Greg would not look the other way when Tolland didn’t show up for school, he’d take a staff person and go to the market to find him and bring him back. When Tolland got frustrated and lashed out at others, Greg walked him through the steps to making it right before God and others.

Sweet little Chabonwa came one day to tell me that she didn’t feel well. With glassy eyes, and slight fever, she looked up at me for help. With panadol, a glass of water, a prayer and a hug, she went off to bed for a couple of days. Everyday I checked in with her and asked how she was feeling, did she need another round of panadol, gave hugs and prayers. Once she’d rebounded from the latest virus going around MICS, she was my buddy. She’d sit with me at devotions, read books in the afternoon, and hold my hand whenever possible.  I realized that she’d broken through the skin color barrier, and the others were wanting more attention and physical attention too.

There's plenty more: Mutinta who was always ready to fix a bike or help with a project, always helping a little one find their shoe or get to dinner. Luundu has the voice of an angel and the calling to be a missionary, Christopher is funny, charming, and hungry for God's Word. Justin, smart, listens closely and quick with an answer during devotions. And the list goes on.

Our farewell  party at the airstrip.

There’s the boarding staff that began to call us Mum and Dad. After school was dismissed on Friday, they each came to tell us how much they missed us, how we treated them like they were our own kids, taught them things from God’s Word that they had never known—some came more than once to say that they couldn’t bear us to leave! Many came to see us off at the airstrip.

So while we are very anxious to be home, be with family, sleep in our own beds and take showers whenever we desire, we're coming with a mixed bag of emotions.