Grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins. Their familiar faces all staring down at us from their new perch on the wall in our dining area. It’s one of the last pieces to fall into place making our home actually feel like our home. Some of the pictures are old, some are new, but the faces are all the same. Even the cousins, grown quite a bit older from the last photo, have the same personalities shining through.

When we look around our home it feels happy and calm. We have routine and systems. Finally, we have those workable systems again for when the power goes out. America and its reliable electricity spoiled us. But looks can be deceiving sometimes. Three weeks ago my Mom came bringing with her love, attention, diversion, and the pictures. It was a wonderful almost two weeks full of relaxation and downright fun. She left just as things started getting tense near town. I was dreading her departure until that happened. I quickly became glad she was gone because the week following her departure was anything but normal. It was full of disruption, stress, and anxiety, all things I didn’t want her to experience here. The disruption remains what it is, and it is not unique to our life on the field. Disruptions are simply life. Everyone deals with it and there’s nothing we can do to alter or stop it. How we handle the disruption is totally on us, though.

If you were following along on social media, you know we lost town water. We also weren’t sure where things were going to land surrounding an ongoing conflict near and sometimes in town. People were frustrated with each other, frustrated with longstanding issues, and we simply didn’t know what would happen to all that anger. We heard lots and lots of rumors, but we had no real knowledge until it played out.

In the end, it was everything and nothing. The people rose up in all their angst, and local leadership responded swiftly and with wisdom. The people went home, content for now. The water was fixed. All the worst case scenarios in our head stayed right there in our heads. It rained a lot in the meantime, so the fear of running out of water was unfounded.

The house felt like a haven of normal. A strange being in the midst of a lot of unknowns in its quiet urging to carry on with life. Even though it gave that appearance, my heart was not feeling normal nor did it feel like carrying on with daily life. I kept one eye trained on the windows at all times. I heard everyday noises and made them ominous in my mind. I saw everyday people and questioned their motives for walking in front of our house. Then one morning I heard the church bells ring across the street at 6am. It’s an almost-every-day occurrence. The singing floated to us easily, as it always does, reminding me of our own church. On Sunday the worship leader had acknowledged the tense environment of town, but made it clear where he stood on fearing any of it. There is no place for it when we know the man of the ground (Satan) is always prowling, but God is always standing with us. Evil will be evil. Sin will be sin. We will praise the Lord always. The music brought that truth back to mind, and strengthened my trust that all would be well.

We are grateful the water situation was resolved so much faster than we hoped for. We are grateful for the wise leaders God has placed over our region right now. We are grateful for the opportunity to witness so clearly God’s care and protection. We are grateful it was nothing in the end. And we are deeply grateful for the thousands of people at home who were following this situation and praying for our team, our city, and for the light to push out the darkness around us. Please don’t stop praying!