It dawned on me recently that we've already been back in Kenya for five months. We reentered life and ministry fairly seamlessly, thanks be to God, and suddenly it's been five months and we're looking around wondering where the time has gone.
the week before we returned to Kenya
It doesn't feel like our Home Ministry Assignment (HMA) in America was that long ago, and yet we're so focused on what's right in front of us that we sometimes feel like it was ages ago.
But life is always like that, especially when Time, the ever-present yet unobtrusive companion of our existence, moves along without ever checking in to see if we approve of its pace. Time is a quiet but consistent guide, the constant meter of our lives, leaving its mark in the wrinkling of our bodies and the maturing of our minds, directly impacting us while somehow remaining in the background.
And so we find ourselves looking around with surprise, realizing we've already entered another year and wondering how Time led us so quickly to this point.
Our boys, who are usually oblivious to the workings of Time, sometimes have moments when they, too, realize how much our life is impacted by the speed (or seeming lack thereof) of Time. Last week, as we were kissing the boys goodnight, Kai pointed out how long we've been back in Kenya. "Mom, if we've been here for five months, that means we're almost a fourth of the way through this term."
I confirmed that was correct. "So that means we have just over a year-and-a-half until we go back for the next Home Assignment," he said. I nodded. Kai sighed. "That feels like a long time." He expressed what he was longing for on the other side of the ocean, and I told him that I understood those feelings well. "It's so weird," he said, "because it seems like whenever we're in Kenya we want to be in America, and whenever we're in America we want to be in Kenya."
Oh yes, my child. The blessing and hardship of having your heart in two places at once will never go away. When you've invested in multiple places, planted roots in several communities, and built lasting relationships around the globe, the tug and pull of your heart will never cease.
Then he said, "It's weird to think that I'll be 13 on our next Home Assignment." And my heart screamed Stop! because sometimes Time gives you glimpses of how soon the future is coming and we refuse to accept it.
For the record, my baby will always be my baby, no matter whether he's a child, teenager, or adult.
So that's settled.
That sentiment, however gushy or trite one might think it to be, points to a truth. As the writer of Ecclesiastes memorably stated, "There is a time for everything under the sun." A time to be born, a time to die. In the case of my son, a time to be a child, a time to become a teenager, a time to mature into a man. Yes, there are seasons, a time for this or that. And yet, it is always the time to grow. Even when our bodies are no longer growing physically, we are growing (hopefully) in knowledge and wisdom and love for the Lord.
Seasons of change exist alongside a lifetime of constants.
We typically spend two years in Kenya, followed by six months in the States, then repeat the cycle. We have come to think of our life in terms of seasons on the mission field or time spent on HMA. We remember events by remembering which term it took place in, or in which HMA the milestone occurred, because the seasons of our life are so easily defined by our rhythm of term-HMA-term-HMA and so on.
While our seasons change (a time to be here, a time to be there), the most significant things don't change. The fact that Kai feels tugged between two places is because his love for people here and there is ongoing and his relationships are ever-deepening. His commitment to family and friends on both sides of the world is steady, and it leads him to long for time with these people throughout the year no matter which season we find ourselves in.
Another constant is the upward trajectory of his growth and maturity. Because we spend significant time apart from people, every time we cross the ocean we hear comments on how much the kids have grown and changed because anyone who hasn't seen them in a while can see the obvious changes from before. No matter where in the world we are (the varying seasons), these boys are growing (the constant).
And they aren't the only ones. Eli and I are growing, too, in a constant movement of development. The rate of change is not constant, to be clear, but change itself is constant.
Over the course of Time, we become people we didn't used to be. By God's grace, we become someone more faithful and more fruitful than our former selves. Sometimes milestones along the way help us identify and track our growth, but sometimes we simply look back one day and realize with unexpected awareness that we're not the same anymore.
Which is a good thing.
Of course it happens that people change for the worse and trod down paths that lead them backward instead of forward, but over the course of a lifetime, with the help of God Almighty, followers of Jesus can hope for a journey that moves mostly forward despite setbacks.
We're almost a fourth of the way through this term, as Kai said, and I can say that this term has been a season of working on projects, focusing on the homefront, and processing griefs. There's been a lot of both outer and inner work. Who will I be at the end of this term? I'm not entirely sure yet, but I am sure it will be someone a bit different than the person who began this term, which is as it should be.
There is a time for every season under the sun.
A time to live, and a time to reflect on how living has changed you.
And one day, on the Day, Time will cease to exist and our journey of ever-steady growth will come to an end as we assume a new and forever constant: being exactly as we were meant to be.
I look forward to that day with more eagerness as Time marches on. I may not fully know who I will be at the end of this term, but I do know that I will be someone who longs to be in the eternal presence of the Lord more than I do now. My longing moves on an increasingly upward trajectory, both because the brokenness of this world makes me ache for the wholeness of eternity and because the beauty of this world makes me hunger for the untold splendor of heaven.
So as I pause and consider the effects of Time, my hope and prayer is that I will be molded by the past in a way that impacts my present and keeps me on a steady course of longing more and more for Christ in the future.
