We seem to shift from season to season here. Some days it’s a rainy Cape Cod summer day, others it’s balmy like spring, and yet others it’s crisp and clear like fall. It’s difficult for one’s body to become accustomed to such a climate. But, here we are.

The landscape is ever changing. The clouds can rest so low that it seems you could reach out and touch them, like giant, floating gobs of cotton candy. It seems one moment you are among the green hills of Ireland, the next England’s mores, and then our very own Eastern Shore. And still other times it seems we’ve entered the realms of Never Never Land because of the strangeness of it all. But, here we are.

It seems that several decades and centuries converge in this place. We find ourselves surfing the internet as we drive by tireless villagers tilling acres of land to plant maize; every step of the tremendous task done by hand. We drive on muddy roads in vans long past their prime and watch strong-backed ladies carry 5 gallon buckets of water on their heads from the local well to their village or compound several kilometers away, while babies sit quietly strapped to their backs by a thin piece of fabric tied over their shoulders. Running water and electricity are commodities that are frequently rationed because of “faults” in the antiquated system. But, here we are.

Seeming contradictions face you at every turn that could threaten the very core of one’s sensibilities. Primitive structures of clay and thatch serve as “offices” as each worker’s coat hangs nearly in a row upon its “walls.” Crowded markets lined with bamboo booths and paved in mud display goods organized neatly by color, purpose, or type on potato sacks on the ground, while every merchant shouts his “best price” for each good. Taxis are pulled over if the front passenger fails to fasten his seat belt, while a toddler stands in the back seat without a car seat or belt, and a pick-up truck drives by with thirty men standing in its bed. People have cell phones but no power. The power and water “fail” on major holidays. But, here we are.

Isaiah said, “Here am I, send me.” He didn’t have the slightest idea what the implications of that decision would be, but he knew it had to be better than any of the plans he had had, or would have, for his own life because of the heart and character of the One sending him. We see so many astonishing sights and face routine petty annoyances here, but there is not a location on this planet exempt from them. I think the best part of being here is knowing that we were sent by the One who loves us more than a parent or spouse or child, and, in the sending, He is showing us how much He loves us a little more day by day. So, here we are.

Love Lisa:)