I'm really here.

It hits me at the strangest times.

That feeling.

The, "I can't believe I live in Africa" feeling.

It's hard to explain.

It's hard to explain why even though I know that I live in Africa, I don't always have that,  
"I can't believe I'm really here!"feelings. You'd think, that everyday I would be assaulted with the reality of my new and different surroundings. But I'm not.

It hits me at the strangest times.

On Friday afternoon I was on my way to the Embassy. Motorpool had just dropped the girls off at a friend's house to play so that I could go to a coffee date/meeting with the other spouses. I was sitting in the back seat, alone, looking out the window like I always do. I have ridden down this road numerous times, but for some reason, it felt different today. An upbeat African song was playing on the radio and it reminded me of the opening scene in Dirty Dancing 2 where they are just arriving in Cuba. The bright sun was warm on my face. I sat listening, letting the song carry me away to Burkina Faso. And it hit me again, "I really live here. I live in Africa."

And I just let that truth wash over me.

I sat in the back smiling to myself while I looked out the window and took in my surroundings...

women balancing baskets on top of their heads
mamas riding motos with babies swaddled on their backs
tiny little boys riding adult sized bikes,
ladies on the side of the streets fanning their roasted corn to keep the flies away
cars driving on the wrong side of the road because no one has any patience for traffic
lads louging on benches in front of their shops taking a mid day nap
the boys coming up to the windows trying to sell phone cards and lemons
the men on their rugs bowing to pray
a man washing the red dirt off his feet
donkey's pulling heavy carts
goats grazing on the side of the road

It was surreal and overwhelmingly delightful. 

I'm really here. God has really brought me here.

Sometimes it just hits me.