No blog last Sunday, as some things in western Kenya- where I was at the time, ten kilometres from the nearest town- are a tad difficult, and for me, setting up a blog was one of them.
I arrived home on Thursday, 28 hours late, having missed the best part of two nights' sleep; I still feel the lack of it, and can nod off at the drop of a hat. (Friends at this point will protest 'no change there, then...'). I guess most of us will have some horror story concerned with travel, and the journey home from Nairobi tops all my previous hair-raisers. I will spare you the details, dear reader.
But it was good to be home. Immediate cup of tea, clothes sorted into piles for the washer, a long shower. The red dirt and rain splashes (it's the rainy season in Kenya) are now gone and clothes look and smell fresh again. I feel clean after the very different 'shower' arrangements experienced in Kenya left me smelling less sweet than I, or Mary who commented on it as I arrived home, are used to.
There is a goodness about arriving home, particularly after a troublesome journey. I go back to all those stories of coming back, coming home, to God. Sweet, clean, refreshed. I'm glad I made the journey.