Dropping Bombs…

Mary has come over nearly every morning this week to sit and take coffee with me. It’s been nice, though sometimes I struggle with what to say. My vocabulary is so limited, and really, our common ground so little, even after a year and a half of being here.
Today the topic turned to the war. She told me about fleeing to the bush up higher on the mountain with all the other women and their children. They were hiding from the planes that came and dropped bombs twice a day. I guess the men slept in the villages, dodging the bombs when they came. It’s such a strange for me to think of, this area being attacked. I can’t really fathom what strategy there would be in that, as the Lopit really don’t have much to do with anything. But I suppose war isn’t known for its tendency to make sense. Quite the opposite. She told me about Kakuma (refugee camp in Kenya) and the U.N. and their ratio cards and things. It’s strange to think that she went through that, and that people here have gone through much worse, but you wouldn’t know it from just being here. They rarely talk about things like that.
I asked her if she’d come get us before they escaped up the mountains if planes started dropping bombs again. That’s become a favorite question, because they’re appalled by our very asking of it, as if they’d leave us here! Haha. But it was an easy segue to their new favorite subject—when are we leaving and, more importantly, are we coming back.
A different kind of bombshells. ;)
A day doesn’t go by without someone asking those dreaded questions. It’s easy for Pattie; she knows she’s coming back. But I haven’t a clue. I don’t know where I’m going from here.
It’s funny, because just last night, Pattie was asking me about Campus Crusade, because I mentioned I’m considering doing at least an internship with them, stateside, for a while. And I was getting all excited talking about their vision and their method and what it would mean to me to go back to the ministry that brought me to Christ, that fed me and grew me, and eventually sent me out. And I thought, maybe this is what God has for me next!
Then Mary is telling me it’s good if I come back. And, better, come back with a husband, so I can have children here and our kids can play together. Ugh, Mary! So cruel.
Anyway, ya’ll can be praying. I’ve got six months left here on TIMO, and I want to “be where I’m at,” so to speak, as much as possible. But there are already a lot of questions about what comes next. If you hear anything from God about it, let me know. He’s about the only who hasn’t voiced a direct opinion on the matter! ;)