Sometimes I forget that I once called Africa my home-away-from-home. That I spent four gloriously fulfilling, challenging, life-altering, and plain ol' happy months in The Land of a Thousand Hills. It was stretching and completely foreign in every sense of the word. Night and day. I can remember after returning to the states, I went to a local grocery store and was overwhelmed with the selection. In Rwanda, if you went to the market to buy bananas, you had two choices; (A). the small ripe yellow ones, or, (B). the small rotten brown ones. Easy enough!
Sometimes I miss that simplicity. The genuine warmth and relational aspect of a culture so ingrained with the will to overcome and rise above extreme adversity. Out of Genocide. HIV/AIDS. Orphans. Widows. Corruption. Poverty. Moving onward to hope and restoration.
Sometimes it seems so long ago that I was there. The transition, arrival, adapting, and goodbye all mesh into a dreamy existence.
So I look at pictures.