It was a lovely, seasoned missionary wife who once told me, that no matter where God takes us, we must always try to make it home. With each of us having had (and still having) food poisoning, fending off monster-sized cockroaches that stealthily climb over us in bed at night with dramatic flair, learning a new culture, having headaches over certain settling issues, and the husband’s very valiant (and might I say, impressive) first drive into craziest traffic ever, being able to prepare a home-cooked meal in a foreign land (my own version of the husband’s favorite chicken noodle soup) feels comforting, to say the least. In a culture where life is dramatically different, where one might feel disoriented in the pace of things, I cannot be more grateful for a husband who –still- shows his enthusiasm for my cooking, and, who in response to my sigh of discouragement that nothing I’ve done in the day went right, says happily, “You did many things right! But the most right thing was- PICKING ME!” Grateful for the most encouraging travel companion ever.
Posted on: Tue, 01 Jul 2014 18:37:02 +0000
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