Four years ago, I stepped on a plane bound for the US of A and bid farewell to "my" beloved Cameroon. I miss it every single day...
I think sometimes it's okay to long for the people and places of your past. It's okay to shed tears over their absence. But...
Don't forget to say "thank you." Please don't forget that part. Because if you weep over something that's gone. Then, truly, you must have had a beautiful thing. So thank God for its presence in your life... and thank Him for its absence (1 Thess 5:18). You might not ever know why you've had to transition, or why you've had to say so many goodbyes. But ultimately, I don't think you really have to know why. Sometimes part of moving on is learning to let the unknowns remain in obscurity. And that's okay...
Wistfulness. Thankfulness. Teary-eyes. Smiles... Balance. You got to keep your balance on this road we travel. ;)
So anyway, last December, I wrote the following as I remembered and reminisced about Cameroon.
***
People often ask me:
"So what’s it like over there?”
“What’s your favorite thing about Cameroon?” —“What do you miss most?”—
Why? Why am I asked unanswerable questions? How can I describe what it’s like to miss a country? It’s never just one thing. It’s countless things. It’s people of course! It’s culture. It’s the living of life differently...
It’s the sight of the flaming sun silhouetting the mango tree as it sinks into the horizon.
It’s the sound of the RAIN gushing its torrent upon my tin roof.
It’s the smell of the queen of the night-blooming in the darkness.
It’s the taste of citrus tropical sweet in my mouth.
It’s the feel of a little dusty hand clasped around my own.
It's the satisfaction of hanging my clothes up on a line...or making a whole meal from scratch.
It’s that feeling of worthwhileness. Do you know that feeling..?
It’s the smile on that lady’s face as we give her (and her stack of firewood) a ride home.
It's the fertile green mountains shrouded with fog.
It’s the sky that reaches up so, so high--with a sun that shines so brilliantly.
It’s the fou fou on my plate and the fulerie juice in my cup.
It’s the reading of my book by the light of a candle because my world has plunged into darkness.
It’s the sounds of a generator re-giving the light.
It’s the sound of the wind blowing through the banana leaves.
It’s the chorus of joyful voices lifting in songs of praise. Beautiful rhythmic praise.
It’s the kids chasing after our car yelling, “White man! White Man!”
It’s the sheer joy the little things bring. Like cheese. Or hot running water. Or just running water.
It’s my heart thrumming to a rhythm of life that is so so chaotic, yet so beautiful...
It’s the so many mores of a life once lived--now abiding in the memory of my past.
It’s the making of memories that allow me to ever relive their wonder.
It’s the beauty of living life in Cameroon.
I miss you Cameroon.
Love,
Lydie.
12/01/2019
***
Ultimately, this road we travel is gonna bring some challenging goodbyes. And it's okay to remember the pain of those goodbyes. To reminisce about the places of our past.
But.
Hopefully, we can say that by God's grace... " I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content (Phil 4:11)."