Black lung and other ramblings...

Went for a run this morning in Nairobi.

Dumbest idea ever.

My lungs might explode, on account of all the smog. Oh, how I'm missing home in the mountains!

I think there's a certain point in a missionary's career at which the missionary isn't quite sure where "home" is--on the field or back in the States. I won't claim to be at that point yet, but I certainly have mixed emotions.

I wake up in the mornings and miss Francis at my window, or Ebiong on the path, or any one of our friends stopping by to say hello. I want to sit and play with Abuba and Laudina. The noises aren't quite right; the people and places and culture, unfamiliar. I just miss home: Lopit.

Then again, Nairobi culture is closer to Western living, so it almost puts more of an ache for America in me, for the places and activities that are wholy American and familiar. Imagine, baseball and a barbecue... And the longer we're in Nairobi, the more chance I have of being in contact with people from home. And that's good, catching up. But I also have to realize how far away they are, and how life goes on rather swimmingly and rather quickly without me there. My friends are getting new jobs, new lives. They are engaged, married... basically just different. It's hard to hear about how they're all doing this and this together, and having all this fun. And so in that way, I miss my friends and I miss home: Illinois.

Guess this is just one of those things you've got to go through when you're a missionary. And I've only been out here for a year. Ugh!

Alright, I'm out. There are minutes to be counted until this extended break is over...