around this time two years ago, i was on spring break with my two best friends in south carolina. i had just decided to move to tanzania once the school year ended, and i remember lying on the beach trying to imagine what my life would be like a year from that day. two years from that day. it was scary and exciting. so impossible to picture a life so different from the one i was living. but it was something i had dreamed of for a long time, and i was ready.

and it has been both everything and nothing like i expected. i love it here and will always love it here. i love the language, the land, the people. i love the amani kiddos, my coworkers at kpap, and my little group of friends. i love tanzanian coke, tanzanian music, tanzanian phone conversations. i love tying a kanga around my neck and wearing it around the house. i love buying mangoes in the bright, dusty market. i love cooking in the dark and eating with my hands and arguing with the local shopkeeper about the price of sugar.

in so many ways, living in tanzania has been everything i imagined. there's something special about life here that makes me feel so free. and sometimes i feel like i fit here more than i maybe ever will in the united states.

and, yet, there's the not so pretty side of things, too. things i didn't really imagine. like systems of bribery that run so deep that you forget that it's not normal to give the traffic policeman money for soda. like having a hard time forming any sort of real relationships with people without feeling like one day they’ll just leave. like cultural ideals that often put unrealistic expectations on children and then blame them for things that aren't their fault.

and then, of course, there's this one. such a big part of the reason i came here. it's been such a long road, filled with many ups but what sometimes seems like so many more downs. it seemed so perfect when he got placed in a secondary school so close to my house. but as time has passed, i think we've both realized that there's a big difference between a fun pen pal who comes to visit you in the summer and a big sister/mama who makes you follow rules and lectures you when you have bad manners or get in trouble at school for trying to make your uniform more stylish. i had, and still do have, such dreams for that child. and, in many ways, he’s doing remarkably well. but it hasn't been what i imagined.

as always, i’ve been learning so much. so much.

that it’s ok not to be liked all the time.

that changes come slowly, sometimes painfully slowly.

that sometimes we don’t see the fruits of what we’ve worked for, but that doesn’t make the work unimportant.

that life usually doesn’t turn out like we expect it to.

and i think, maybe above everything else, i’m learning that it’s not our job to save anyone. it’s our job to love them and to help them, but we can’t control how things turn out in the end. as much as we push and try and work and fight, in the end the policeman might still be asking for soda money, the mountain guides might still be stealing from porters, the teachers at the school down the street might still be hitting their 2^nd graders with sticks when they don’t know their multiplication tables.

and while none of this is ok, in a way it is. because while it’s important to keep pushing and trying and working and fighting, it’s also important to remember that we’re not doing any saving. there is only One who saves and i’m so very thankful for Him because i don’t know what i’m doing most of the time. and while He’s saving the corrupt politicians and greedy mountain guides and angry teenagers, in His own way and His own time, He’s also saving you and saving me. we are all equally in need of His grace, and none of us deserve it.

on this Easter weekend, i’m so thankful for a God who creates life from death. who, even when things don’t turn out like i expect, makes all things new.

Yesu amefufuka. Amefufuka kweli.