Home

I'm home.

If I was a better blogger, I might have posted this much sooner. Unfortunately, I've put this off a little bit in order to adjust. I could probably have written something when I got off the plane, but I was tired. I think I have an excuse. But, had I blogged sooner, it would have looked something like this:

"I'm home. I bought cheese for mom and spilled coffee on the flight attendant. Now I'm going to bed."

All of that is true. I am home. I bought cheese for mom, smoked gouda, the best $15 hunk of cheese I've ever purchase. I did spill coffee on the flight attendant but that, I think, was her fault and I did apologize. And then I did go to bed.

To add a few more boring details: Both of my bags arrived safely in Detroit, where I checked them through, but one of them didn't make it to Grand Rapids. It came later that night and they sent it right to my house.

The first place I went when I got home was Panera Bread with my family. Dad was in St. Louis, so he couldn't join us. But I had long wanted a good sandwich, and Panera Bread delivered.

Sometime right before I landed in Amsterdam, McCain conceded the election and Obama won. And from that point until yesterday, I didn't stop hearing about it. Come to think of it, from the time I arrived in Dar Es Salaam, everyone was talking about it. When people found out I was American, they demanded to know why I wasn't in the United States, voting for Barack Obama. Wote Watanzania wametaka Barack Obama. My cab driver told me that he thought Kenya, and maybe Tanzania, too, would go crazy if Barack Obama won. He told me they wouldn't work for a week, and would just party. As far as I know, he's probably right.

The first question most people ask is "How was Africa?" And, God bless 'em, this is a terribly frustrating thing to answer. Because I can't really summarize or put it into words yet. How were the last three months of your life? You have to think about it, right?. This was not a weekend trip, it was three months of life. You can tell the people who've been there, because they ask specific questions. "What was something tough you experienced?" "Where were some of the places you went?" "What were the people like?" "What was the weirdest thing you ate?" Those are questions I can answer. If you ask, "How was Africa," I'll either give an equally brief answer ("Good.") or stammer and tell you awkwardly that I don't know yet. I don't have my impressions all formed yet. This is the kind of thing that doesn't make a whole lot of sense for a while.

Someone asked me in church today "is your heart there?" and I told her it wasn't. I've been expecting people to ask me if I'm going to drop everything and move there, and "Is your heart there" sounded an awful lot like, "Are you going to drop everything and move there?" She told me her experience must have been opposite because as soon as she was there, her heart was there, too. I loved being in Africa, but I'm glad to be home. I'm still at the stage where I'm soaking up home, reconnecting with everyone I haven't seen, enjoying brushing my teeth with tap water, and hiking in the woods without thinking about puff adders. So, my heart is pretty firmly planted here. For now. Which is not to say my heart isn't a little bit "there" too. And maybe someday I'll drop everything and move there. But for now, lots of people are going to get vague answers from me.

But ANYWAY.

I'm home and adjusting. I still wake up at 4 am for no good reason, and I'm still learning how, even in the span of three months, the world has moved on without me. And all of the pictures, the good pictures, are up on Facebook.

As for today... Today I watched football and it was glorious, even though it was the Lions.

jim