I thought things were going well until she mentioned that the extra baggage fees were quite a bit more than we had thought. $800 lighter, and a little annoyed, we made our way to security, said our sad goodbyes, and settled into our gate area waiting for our flight to board. A quick sandwich, a tearful protest from Noémi, who refused to get off the moving walkway, and we finally were relieved to hear that boarding was commencing. I was closing in on that seat.
About 8 hours later we were hurdling 500 miles an hour in the aluminum aircraft at about 38,000 feet, and I felt pretty good. Noémi had been crying with Corinne for about an hour, and I finally offered her a bit of respite and took our two year old to sit with me in the row ahead. You can imagine how please with myself I was when she quickly fell asleep and I'm confident that Corinne probably sighed something about me being the child whisperer, or something like that. I was smug in my fatherly prowess.
Then Noémi vomited all over me.
So I found myself standing in the tiny airplane bathroom washing my clothing in the sink before putting the wet jeans and dress shirt back on, realizing the extent of this grand adventure. These are the moments that we as missionaries look back on and laugh...or at least I think I will.
Now we have been here a few weeks, settled into our flat, even done a little car shopping. Finding something clean that seats 5 comfortably on our budget has been a battle, but I'm confident it exists. The physical things don't scare me, those things will be worked out in time. Those are the easy things. We know what to expect, we've dealt with the culture shock, we know our way around....this isn't our first rodeo.
It's the emotional parts of setting up a new life in a foreign place that wear me out. It's little things like Noémi asking if we can go to Papaw Pious' (Mathias) house. It's Grant repeatedly telling us how much he misses his friends, and how badly he wants to go to school. We have been looking at homeschooling him to save money, I don't really have the heart to drop that on him yet. Carter looked at me our second day here and said, "Dad, I didn't want to come here, I wanted to stay in Indiana and keep Milo and see our family." (We gave away our Milo the Boston Terrier before moving here.)
When I hear these little things it hurts. After Carter's comment I literally went into my bathroom and teared up. I know those feelings all too well. I remember saying goodbye. Goodbye to friends, goodbye to family, goodbye to pets who snuggled us all night in our beds. I know that hurt, and a part of me hates that they now know it too. Even while writing this I feel that familiar pang.
Missionaries aren't "normal". Most careers don't completely uproot your family to this extent, but we remain convinced that this is God's direction for us, and I know He loves our children more than we possibly could. Looking back now, I don't regret growing up an MK for a minute. Someday I trust that they will feel the same.
After two weeks I feel blessed. We are surrounded by many Hungarians who care about us. Catching up with friends from our first term has been cathartic and I know that in time these tough feelings will fade, as in time, this will be home again.
Yesterday as we got out of the van in front of our building, Noémi looked up at our flat and said, "Home! Dis our home." It was one of those moments I felt like God's was saying, "It's going to be alright."
So now the kids are asleep in their beds, Corinne is in the living room and I'm in the office writing this long overdue blog update. The warm glow of the desk lamp illuminates the room. Yes sweetie, this is our home.
In the coming years we hope to write our life and all that God does through us here. We invite you dear reader to join us as we follow God on this grand adventure.
-Jonathan
