Ramblings of the Thrice-Coffeed Nomad
Far be it from me to get overly sentimental, but as soon as I handed over the keys to our Budapest apartment, I romantically adopted the title of nomad.
Nomad, noun: a member of a people who travel from place to place in search of fresh pasture for their animals, with no permanent home.
Apart from casually referring to my family as animals, “nomad” has been an apt description of our home assignment, moving from place to place, staying two weeks at a time. I almost committed to the sackcloth-colored cloak and Roman sandals, but alas, I’m not nearly Christian enough to pull that off.
Weeks of this lifestyle are now turning into months, and I’m finally starting to see old, forgotten parts of myself resurfacing. At first, this felt discouraging, a reminder that maybe not much has changed in the four years I’ve been away. If I’m still the same deep down, what impact am I really having on the world? Do these sacrifices I’m making even matter? Things were looking pretty bleak.
But after a refreshing three days at the beach, the familiarity of my old self reframed itself, not as a liability but as a treasure worth unearthing and enjoying.
Since I’m thrice-coffeed (and my ramblings in this state can be hard to follow), I thought I’d make a small list of the things I’ve been noticing during our present wanderings. Scroll at your leisure, coffee optional, I shall not partake in another lest I completely write myself off.
1. Value lies less in owning spaces and more in fully inhabiting them.
There’s something to be said for not having a space to call your own. In the rush of life, it’s easy to become addicted to “owning” things, as if ownership makes them safer from being taken. But really, it’s an illusion. Houses, even ones we “own,” can be lost in a moment. One swing from Mother Nature, and everything could be gone.
What I’ve come to love about this season is that while we don’t own a space, we are warmly welcomed into the spaces of others. We’ve never gone without a provided bed or a warm house. And there’s something about being in someone else’s space that draws us together in a personal, authentic way, something we might miss if we were tucked away in our own comfortable routines.
2. Time with people who love us easily is an invaluable gift.
I’ve missed the casual intimacy of being fully understood by people who have known me since I was a wee nipper. There are no false airs with family. Some people only know us as “the missionaries,” but those who have known us longer have seen us at our most immature and our very worst, and they still love us.
That kind of acceptance sometimes takes my breath away, while at the same time giving me breath. And noticing the grey hairs settling in on the heads of those we love? That’s a visual reminder not to take them for granted. Tomorrow isn’t promised, so I’ll hold them close while I can.
3. Being present is something we have to keep choosing.
In this stage of missions, it’s hard to stay fully present. We’re unpacking both hurts and victories from the past season, while also pressing toward the next. It’s easy to get stuck in the past or live too far in the future.
So we have to keep bringing ourselves back to the present. Yes, work through the past. Yes, envision a bold future. But also, yes, be with the people right in front of us now. Be committed to their stories and their lives. Otherwise, so much present gold is lost because we were looking elsewhere.
4. Never underestimate the value of your own couch.
And finally: I will never again take for granted the joy of having our own couch to collapse on at the end of the day.
Thankfully, friends and family have been so generous in sharing their spaces with us. But there’s still something priceless about your own home, the freedom to flop onto your own couch or, let’s be honest, wander around in your underwear.
It seems the real treasure is found in the balance, between the joy of new connections and the comfort of a place to simply be. Having your own space? Invaluable. Meeting new people and sharing the stories of how God has moved? Priceless.
