Last night I went down to Kent with Twaan. It was good, despite the mishap of getting lost and me being really angry with Twaan’s mad back seat driving skills. He was just trying to be helpful, becuase sometimes I get stressed in traffic (in an unfamiliar, borrowed car). But it had the opposite effect. Not to mention I have just been grumpy for the last 5 days, at least.
But Kent, Kent itself was wonderful. We went to see Indo people. I met Uncle Wally for the first time. We were headed for the back door, and Uncle Wally threw open the front door, calling “Tony!” We made a hard left turn, marched up the steps and straight into the arms of the most famous missionary I know. He gave me a hug, even though we hadn’t met yet. He said he feels like he already knows me, he’s heard so much from Barb (anthony’s mom). And then we went inside to join at least thirty other people eating Soto Ayam, drinking some koolaid-punch-beverage, and sitting or standing all over the house.
This is what I love about the Indo people. We were half an hour late, and Wally ignored my apology as though it had never occurred to him. People smiled and shook my hand, people hugged me and knew who I was, and some of them were excited to meet me. There was so much food, and it was still coming off the stove. There were greetings in other languages, and kisses and lots of laughter. It was like one big happy family reunion.
Except, it wasn’t just like a reunion. It was a family coming back together, even though we didn’t know half of them and some hadn’t been seen for years. This is why I miss missionaries. Because I miss having family and feeling at home in a place I’ve never been.
