The house is big and old, and has a lot of personality, from the squeaky wood floors to the wooden inside shutters. I want to name the house, but haven’t come up with anything yet.
Dad, I think you’ll be impressed with the ramp that was built on the side of the house just for me! It’s really sturdy and strong…
Here is my room, complete with antiquey dresser and a bed that can raise my head and/or feet and even give massages! Never knew a missionary would have such a comfortable place to rest.
Tuesday night was the first time the house really felt like a home. We have two Malaysian families who live upstairs – one a mother, Rekka, and 6-year-old daughter, Rosheni, and the other a husband and wife (whose names I can’t spell yet) with a 2-year-old son, Michel, and a 3-week old baby girl, Deborah. Over the weekend I think we were all unsure how friendly we could be with each other, but last night the spell was broken when Leigh Ann went up to ask if she could see the new baby. A few minutes later, she carefully came downstairs with a beautiful bundle in her arms.
The mother came down too, smiling and making her grand appearance for the first time. The father and little boy started cooking, the other mother unloaded her groceries, and the little girl ran to get her coloring book. Our new friend from Ethiopia, Hilina, was here as well, and we all stood and sat around the kitchen talking for a long time, mostly about how God is so good and answers our prayers… a strikingly beautiful conversation to have with refugees. Turns out the new mother was a language teacher in Malaysia, so she eagerly suggested I teach her English and she teach me Tso (spelling?). Sure, why not! Later when the kids went to bed, Hilina told Leigh Ann and I more about the corrupt governments of Africa, especially what she knows about her home country, and the long process her family has gone through to come here to the States.
It was close to midnight when we got to bed, but I was so thrilled – my house is an international home!