Skip to main content

A journey to Africa | Johannesburg airport in transit.

And so it has begun. After months of anticipation and preparation I am well on my way. I am typing this at the airport in Johannesburg as I sip a latte in a very tall glass, and enjoy some lovely french toast with Maple syrup and bacon. My view is of the runway and is a reminder of how airports connect the nations.

This is not my first time at this airport. 20 years ago when I was 20 I had a layover here travelling back from visiting friends in Zimbabwe. There was a strike with the company I was flying with and so instead of a direct flight from Harare to London, I had to fly via Johannesburg. I remember how nervous I was, wondering how I would figure out the whole changing planes thing, and remember finding it all quite an ordeal despite being upgraded to business class (which at that time meant sitting next to a chain-smoking gentleman and with the entertainment system not working for the whole very long flight). Looking back I see how much things have changed. How much I have changed. How much life adds to us wisdom and experience and the peace in knowing that things mostly work out somehow. Getting on a series of flights to reach a destination has become normality, and I have learnt to savour not just the arriving, but also the travelling, realizing that every journey really begins the moment an idea or thought or dream starts to become a concrete plan.

Expectations. They are there whether we have formulated them or not. Life has been busy and I've not found enough time in the past weeks to really sit down and think about this trip in a focused way. Not enough time to pray and ask God what He has for this mini-missions trip. And yet I feel such a surge of excitement as I sit here. A bit zombielike energy wise (flights are a cause of interrupted sleep, and it might just be my age, but the seats seemed even narrower than before even for me with short legs), but feeling light. Full of peace and like the weight of the every-day having been lifted, leaving capacity to see more and take in more. Ready for what these week will contain and hold, hoping that as I get to live life here for a tiny while, that I can be a blessing to those I meet along the way.

I just ordered a glass of mango juice, and the thick sweet flavour takes me back to Brazil where there was so much life. I hope this time can also bring renewed life to my heart as I again step out of what is comfortable and familiar, and get to see the faithfulness of God in the midst of it.

Popular posts from this blog

Getting to know the local culture.

Life is a strange thing. Last week went…not much happened, and then it was over. The weekend was quite calm without too many wild and exciting things happening. Except, of course, a wee outing to watch the National Championship for Veteran Ploughing. Now, like me, you might be sadly lacking an understanding of what this actually means. So I am delighted to be able to enlighten you in this respect. It’s basically (for the “farm-language-illiterate” like myself) a competition where you use old (hence the name “veteran”) tractors and ploughs, and plough up a stretch of field which is then evaluated and the one scoring the highest sum (accuracy, depth, how well the soil is turned is all given points) wins. I must admit that this information I got by eavesdropping on a conversation next to me where a man was explaining to some of my friends how it all works. So that was a fun adventure….although we only stayed for a bit. What is sort of occupying my mind at present is my upcoming travel abr...

Taking in the familiar and a heart connected.

Amsterdam. It still has that muggy feeling in Summer, and a constant flow of people which if you stop to think about it, it's quite amazing that there would even be space to accommodate them all. But then I guess they are not all staying. Just passing through on their way to or from somewhere. It's always good for the heart to visit somewhere that was once home. The familiarity of streets and customs makes it easier to embrace what might be new as well as the joy of being reacquainted with old friends. Friends. So many of them to be found in this city, ready with hugs and good words that are uttered when seeing someone who was away again. Friendship. A treasure that cannot be bought. Cobblestones trodden by many, including myself. Sitting on a bench. Praying. Remembering the first time I stumbled upon this area lined with windows with red lights and curtains. An area which has come to represent no longer windows, but people to me. Some still behind a window. Others who have ...

Tuesday children's prayer | Handing out shoes and feeding toddlers.

No day is the same here. After getting up early (which seems to be what I do here), and eating breakfast which was bread with butter (accompanied by an amazing cup of coffee given me by an American friend), I headed to the prayer room for children's prayer. This is a prayer time where the children come voluntarily to pray before school on Tuesdays and Fridays. Entering the room I was so impressed by how it was full of children eager to pray. There were probably 60 or 70 children there, and it was amazing to see one after the other choose to pray for their families and people who are sick, and other subjects on their little hearts. It was so great and an experience that I will carry with me for a long time. After prayer it was "Shoprite" time, which meant piling into a bus with other visitors and missionaries for the weekly shopping trip. I didn't quite know what to expect, but I had a few items to buy and hoped it would be a stress-free experience. As we drove along ...