I spent the whole year before coming here doing that, too.
Every time I turned on running water, I would think, “Will I have running water? Even if I do, it won’t be clean.”
Every time I unloaded the dishwasher, I thought, “How will I manage washing dishes by hand for the next three years?”
When I took my clothes out of the dryer, I would think, “Oh, how I’ll miss this soft feeling compared to clothes drying in the sun.”
Anyway, the list went on and on, but now that I’m here, those things aren’t a big deal – thankfully.
I wash dishes every day, and I rarely mourn the fact that I don’t have a dishwasher.
I do have a tap in my kitchen – one - for cold water, so getting grease off things is hard. I have to heat water on the stove (no microwave) to help sometime, but it's not a big deal.
I thought I would see all these things as inconveniences, and I don’t. Weird.
My friend suggested I pray for extra “umph,” while living here.
Not a bad idea.
Other things broke my heart before coming to Arua a lot more than not having hot water.
I still wish Kylie could dance.
I wish they could do all the school stuff.
I wish they could go to AWANAs, VBS, and camps etc.
I want to be closer to family.
I don't want my kids to get malaria.
You get the point...
But since God called us here, I have to know that this is the plan for their lives, too, and He’s shaping them into something special that He had planned long ago.
My kids are pretty tough, and I'm so proud of the way they've adjusted these past months.
I know on Sundays when they sit through a 2-hour service with no English spoken, it must get really frustrating and wear them out.
During the service, after we sit down, children flock to sit beside us (scrunching us, seriously), in front of us, and behind us.
Kids play with their hair behind them or lean over to see what they are drawing. The kids in front, don’t pay attention to anything except my kids because they are turned around backwards the whole time. And the kids next to us are always asking to see my Bible, mechanical pencil, or some other “novelty.”
I’m trying to interpret Lugbara the whole time, so after using my brain so much and having all this activity around me, I am worn out after church, too.
These are all adjustments, but you just get used to them.
I see how other people live around me, and I'm thankful for that one tap in my kitchen. Others around me carry a jerri can to the bore hole and then haul the water to their house - every day.
I have a fan in my house that can cool me off on a hot day. Most people here don't even have electricity, much less a fan.
Sun-dried clothes aren't as crisp as I thought they would be, and I have a wonderful clothes line to hang them on. My neighbors put their clothes on their roof, in trees, and on barb-wired fences.
Perspective is a funny thing.