when we were in kenya, we went on safari.
i took hundreds of pictures of zebras and water buffalo and impala and wide, flat, treed land. we climbed rocks for photos, wandered this small patch of africa, and cherished the long hoped for sight of a lone adolescent lion, who looked at us without reaction before turning and walking away.
when we were in kenya, we went on safari. but maybe we didn’t consider that going to kenya was the safari. all of it.
some of us left american soil for the first time, some of us for (what felt like) the ninety millionth. (and since the latter is me, let me just say: ninety million times is just not enough.)
but all of us traversed a road we hadn’t been on before. and i think we’re all a little floored, because sometimes Jesus shows up and lays you flat like that.
because africa does that, it digs deep underneath the skin and it doesn’t come out. not even when you’ve scrubbed the last vestige of red dirt from underneath your fingernails.
and i’ve found the mountains of africa, the mountains i thought i’d left behind when we decided we were no longer going to spain.
but i found them, poured over me, the Living Water itself.
i’m on safari in my heart now. i’m far from a place i know or find familiar and i don’t know what here looks like but i’m eager for the adventure of exploring it.
Jesus lead me forward, into the river jordan. it’s a brazen hot mess but i don’t know any other way to be.