There’s not much time til our 90 days in China is up. What are we going to do next?
We have some time in Kuala Lumpur, or we could meet up with a few traveling families. Or we could rest and catch up on a bit of homeschool. Or Chris could get stuck into setting up his online business.
After that, we have flights booked for India! This trip will certainly include camel treking and finding a place on the beach to rest up and eating all things spicy and delicious. There are some therapy centres we want to visit with Sparky.
Oh, and we’d like to go to beautiful Udaipur.
We are very excited to be going home for Christmas, and just in time for a sunny summer. Maybe we’ll go down south and camp near the beach…
Maybe we’ll go to Europe in time for its summer and buy a cheap old RV and drive around a bit. We could put the children in a French school for a ‘language dunking’.
Although, we skipped over Burma and Lao and Nepal, maybe we could do an Asia part B trip….
When I start to think like this, like all we need is the air that we breathe and whats in our packs, and each other, and God and his big wide world, I start to feel a strange and exhilarating feeling that is a mixture of invincibility and fear and excitement and the deliciousness that comes from finding a rare and precious secret and being entrusted with it.
I am not against encumbrance, only that it must be for something and someone worth carrying. After all, I do worship a man who told me to pick up my cross and follow him. And I will willingly carry my children. But no longer will I carry regret, social pressure, undeserved guilt, or worry.
I think I think more clearly when the power is off, when I’m dry and thirsty and I’m surrounded by beauty. When I smell of ash and my children are rosy cheeked and clean from swimming in icy river water. When I’ve eaten hearty simple food in good company.
When the ‘heavens and earth declaring the glory of the LORD’ is my first thought in the morning, rather than ‘oh dear, I need three more hours sleep and a cup of tea’
I want to be with my children and cherish them, not just the four hugs a day for survival or the eight for growth, but myriad hugs so that we all thrive.
There is being content with the mundane, and there is thinking the mundane is all there is, and making it out to be more than it is. (and I realise that one person’s mundane is another person’s delightfully organised) I think I believe in contentment, but not resignation.
There is fried bread and there are eagles, and warm fresh milk and sunsets and real butter and hot fires and hospitality beyond language. There is travel and there is family and there is lemon pudding and blue vein cheese. There is being loved beyond measure and there is being invited to join in a venture of eternal significance. There is Dickens. There is green ginger wine. There are hot showers and cold beers. There is laughter. There are children.
Everyone has a God. Mine is a carpenter called Jesus. He traveled a lot and cooked fish on a fire like the Waifs.
I think I will climb a hill and sing badly from the opening of the Sound of Music. I don’t have the right dress, but my bad hair cut will give Maria a run for her money.
And I love that I don’t know where I’ll be in a few months, or who with, or doing what. I love it.
I’m pretty happy right now.