a blessing beyond words?
In what we believe will be our final post to ububele, we want to thank you, sincerely, for accompanying us on our journey to Africa. We appreciated so much your comments and your e-mails, your prayers and your presence. We missed you more than you know. But we’re home again, and it already feels as if our sabbatical in Africa was a long, long time ago. It feels as if we were gone for only a few days—almost as if we have walked out of a dream only to resume our lives which are basically the same, just as we left them, only to find we don’t exactly fit them anymore.
The transition home has been easiest for Abraham. As we anticipated, he missed his friends and everything familiar to him so very much when we were gone. It was fun to watch him come home, and reacquaint himself with his life here: his house, his room, his “stuff,” and then finally his friends and his routine. He has had sleepovers and lots of time already with his buddies. He always looks so happy now. But we know the sabbatical was significant for him and for his already “old” heart. Before leaving on the bus the first day, he quizzed me on apartheid, so he would be prepared to answer questions at school: “So it was the government that was in place from 1948 to 1994, where the white minority oppressed the black majority, right?,” he asked. Then he continued, “And it was overturned when Mandela was elected in South Africa’s first democratic election in 1994?” We notice that he is more self-confident than he was before. He seems comfortable in his own skin—like he knows who he is. He is the kid who loved the ocean, and who learned to boogie-board. He yearned to climb mountains and hike trails. He soaked in every detail trivial and otherwise about the wildlife in Africa. And he pushed the boundaries of his comfort zone—and grew a lot, mentally and physically.
By contrast, the transition home has been hardest for Joe. We knew it would be, for he had only one week to wear off the jet lag and prepare to be in his classroom again already on February 1st. We got home on a Saturday night, and the week home was busy as we re-enrolled the boys in their respective school districts (Abe is in Maple Grove; Andy is in Wayzata). And Joe visited with his long-term sub to become acquainted with his classroom (which was relocated when we were gone) and to his students, all of whom are new to him this year. All of this fed the surreal experience of coming home again, both to a school where everything seemed foreign and different, as well as to a house that was full and occupied when we were gone, but which was so clean and perfect we couldn’t tell that anyone had been here. (We really cannot thank you enough, Cathy Pino.) We finally were able to visit Joe’s parents just this past weekend, which was very nice, as it was very difficult for Joe to be away from them, especially when his mother’s only living brother passed away just a few weeks before we were scheduled to fly home. So, piece by piece, Joe is assimilating everything we experienced, and is processing what it all means to him individually, to us as a family, and for our lives here in Minneapolis.
The transition home was much easier for Andy than was his transition to life in Africa—that much is for sure. Like his brother, Andy ran around the house when we got home. We listened to excited exclamations of “Abe? Abe? Remember this!?” By the end of the weekend, I think every toy had been pulled out of every storage bin throughout the house. The toughest part came the second week, when Andy transitioned yet again—this time to all-day, everyday kindergarten at Joe’s school. He was a trooper the first and second day. On day three, he said, “Do I have to go there again?” But then he came down with a fever, and was home sick Friday, throughout the weekend, and still on Monday and Tuesday. He loves riding in the car with Daddy every morning, though—and Joe talks about seeing him in the hallway. All the kindergartners point to “Mr. Vrudny” and giggle as they walk by, saying, “Hey! There’s Andy’s Dad! Helloooooooooo, Mr. Vrudny.” Andy was also selected to deliver the class collection of valentines to the custodian of his school. Rumors are that he walked very proudly through the school, having been given such an honor. And last week, he had his first experience in the computer lab. Everyday, he is happy to share details about his day with us.
And, as for me? Well, I’m the lucky one. My sabbatical is for the entire year, so I do not go back to the University until September. Once the boys are off to school each morning, I have the house to myself. Next week, I hope to get to work again on “30/30,” but in the meanwhile I’ve been, how shall I put it? In a word, I’ve been nesting. I’ve gone through every cupboard. I’ve organized every closet. I’ve already generated six big bags of items to give away (as well as quite a few items to toss). I’ve rearranged furniture. I’ve sorted the tupperware. I’ve organized my office. I’ve reworked the display above the kitchen cupboards. I’ve framed our African art and hung it above the piano. I’ve repositioned our lamps. I’ve updated the blog, and sorted our pictures. I made my mom her 2010 calendar (with pictures of our Christmas with my parents in South Africa). All of this was very therapeutic, I think, as I tried to become accustomed again to the dim winter’s light in Minnesota, when the blue sky and bright sunshine in Africa was still so fresh in my mind’s eye—and as I processed the reality that our sabbatical in Africa was truly over. I feel like we’ve lost something so special—something that we cannot have back again. But our lives are here. And so nesting was the only way I felt I could manage.
Even though we have been able to slide right back into our lives, we know that we are not the same people as when we left. Because we experienced South Africa’s pain and ongoing struggle, as well as its hope and its trust in all the future holds, we have goals about living even more intentionally here. We mean this very holistically—from the meals we eat to the ways we spend our time, from everyday purchases we make to the causes we support. We see the world’s abundance, and desire for it to be fostered and shared. And so we have lots to figure out about what this means for us. We have made the commitment to support one child’s education in South Africa, enabling her to study at a school where she will receive a better education than she otherwise might have been able. I am spearheading an effort to find people who will support other children similarly in the community where we worked most closely. We are looking for a place near us to volunteer as an entire family. And we are making other decisions, recognizing this “conversion” is a lifelong journey where there will be challenges and frustrations as well as successes and causes for celebration.
Before we close, we wanted to share just one more thing—the “thing” that has been behind all of this, even if unspoken.
We hope that it has been evident even if not explicit that faith has been vital to everything that we were about in Africa. We were not in Africa to be missionaries—at least, not in the traditional sense. We were not in Africa to put the words “I believe in Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior” on anyone’s lips. Rather, if we might be so bold, we were exploring for ourselves what it might mean really to live as disciples of Jesus. We were attempting to be his students. We looked at the accounts of his life from the first century, and noticed that he excluded absolutely no one. He embraced the people his society neglected or shunned: the poor and the vulnerable, widows, orphans, prostitutes, children, lepers. He challenged the religious authorities to expand their imaginations to the spirit of the law and its rootedness in love rather than its rootedness in self-righteousness. He prayed among his friends quietly, and engaged in his community openly and compassionately. His way of being in the world peaceably together with the message of his parables were threatening to the religious authorities, just as the masses who began to surround him were threatening to the civil authorities. After just a few years active in public ministry, he was wrongly arrested, unjustly tried, and brutally killed. If we believe that God willed this to happen, that God instrumented this entire divine drama in order to reconcile humanity to God, not only is our understanding of God deficient so as to posit such violence in the very heart of God (divine child abuse, some theologians have called it), but so also is our praxis that can easily justify illegal arrests, unjust trials, and brutal killings—all of which we have done in the name of Christianity, over and over again, throughout Western history. South Africa knows all of this too intimately, and too recently.
But if we believe that to be a disciple of Christ means that the Holy Spirit moves us to follow in “the way” of Jesus—living lives where our love excludes no one; where we embrace those our society leaves behind: the poor and the vulnerable, orphans, sex workers, people infected with HIV/AIDS; where we pray privately but engage in the community openly and compassionately; where we challenge religious and civil authorities to expand their imaginations to the ways of justice and peace, then perhaps we’ve learned something vital about what it means to be human, first and foremost, but also a Christian—a true follower of Christ. If, as members of the one “body of Christ,” we could function as a voice of resistance to the ways of the world and to live en masse in this peaceful and non-violent way, resisting by grace the selfish, greedy, and cruel ways of those not so moved to live likewise, we could live in the resurrection hope that “God’s will be done, on earth, as it is in heaven” (Matt. 6:10), and in the promise that one day we will no longer “see through a glass darkly” (I Cor. 13:12).
Whatever lies ahead for us, we aspire to learn more deeply how to resist the powers that be so that we are not complicit in them. We want to continue to accompany people traumatized by these unjust powers. And we are motivated to do whatever we can to weave the tapestry of our lives on this planet in such a way that the boundaries that we perceive to separate us, one human being from another, disappear into the illusions they are.
And if by so living, the Spirit of Goodness, Truth, and Beauty within us inspired or attracted others to convert their lives to live in a similarly attentive way, then it is for us and for the wider community a blessing beyond words. But for us it was enough simply to live with people in South Africa, listening to them and learning from them what it is to be human. This was another blessing beyond words, we again the privileged recipients.
top 10s
What I’ll miss about South Africa
(in no particular order…)
- Ocean
- Warm weather
- Mountains
- Views: Boyes Drive / Mountain Pass
- Making connections
- Running along the ocean
- Learning about a different culture
- Walking to stores
- Sunny Cove Manor
- Being with my boys 24/7
What I missed about Minnesota
(i.e., why I’m glad to be home…)
- My parents
- Autumn
- Cabin
- Trees
- Familiar foods
- Yard work
- Personal space
- Safety/security (no fences)
- My routine
- Swimming in a pool
top 10s?
What I’ll miss about South Africa
(in no particular order…)
- Friends
- Landscape (esp. the mountain, the ocean, and hibiscus and frangipani trees!)
- Climate
- Holy Trinity Anglican Church
- Simplicity
- Time with just “my boys” (all three of them!)
- Shoprite Banana Bread
- Social Engagement, especially through the Scalabrini and Zwane Centres
- Ironed Napkins & Sheets (seriously!)
- Full-Service Gas Stations
What I missed about Minnesota
(i.e., why I’m glad to be home…)
- Proximity to my Parents
- Friends
- My Kitchen (and Panda on Lexington!)
- Alone Time!
- My VW Bug (and driving!)
- MSNBC & HGTV
- Scrapbooking
- Convenient and Reliable Access to the Internet
- My Zen Garden
- Home: the Comfort and Security of my Pretty House
top 10s
What I’ll miss about South Africa
(in no particular order…)
- Richard
- Rock climbing
- Guido (the Kolbe pet dog)
- Sand castles
- Edwin and Kayle
- Kirstenbosch Gardens
- Having Abraham all to myself
- Wearing flip flops all the time
- Sharing a room with Abraham
- Bean garden and guinea hens at Kolbe House
What I missed about Minnesota
(i.e., why I’m glad to be home…)
- Goldfish snacks
- Grandpas and Grandmas
- My bed
- My toys
- My friends (especially Alec, Charlie, and Nathan!)
- Snow
- PBSKids.org
- Curious George
- Stuffed animals
- Macaroni and cheese
top 10s
What I’ll miss about South Africa
(in no particular order…)
- Exploring NATURE, such as running the trails and climbing the mountains at Kirstenbosch Gardens
- Visiting FRIENDS, like Richard, Solveig & Peter, Edwin & Ethan
- Playing in the OCEAN and boogie boarding
- HOMESCHOOLING
- Playing on the BEACH
- Having MOUNTAINS in our backyard
- Shopping at the V.A. WATERFRONT
- Living at SUNNY COVE MANOR
- Living at KOLBE HOUSE
- Experiencing all the WILDLIFE
What I missed about Minnesota
(i.e., why I’m glad to be home…)
- Friends
- American Food
- Home and my own Bed
- Cabin
- Neighborhood
- Snow
- Alone Time
- Public Schooling
- Grandparents
- Computer Connection / Video Games
Ububele 