A House of Memories, Not a Home of Family

        Have you ever felt stuck? I don’t mean the kind of stuck like being stuck underneath the bed, although I’ve been there totally, I’m talking about being stuck emotionally. The trapped confusion between different contradicting emotions. Walking through a house can do that for me, specifically our past missionary partners, the Potters house. Today was one of the days I had to brave walking around in the shell of their home. A feeling of desertion flows through me, memories flash in my mind. There’s the rocking chair where I held tiny newborn Zachary the day he was born, where I fed him his bottle. That’s where Sydney and I would read books together, where I would protect her from the big, scary storms outside. I smile, they are good memories, they are ones I treasure greatly. I see that the collection of children’s books are mostly gone though and reality settles back in. I turn away. The rest of house is the same way, memories of good, joyful times and the hard reality that they’re will be no more memories made here with the Potters. Don’t get me wrong I am so thankful for these memories, so glad to have the time I did with the Potters. I think I have finally accepted the fact that the Potters may never set foot in Vanga again, they may never visit, they may never live here or move back. It makes me sad, I would love them to be here with us, with my family. Everyone misses them. I understand though that it may never come to be and as hard as that is, I am okay with that. I truly felt that calmness of acceptance as I walked through their house today. That house is full of memories that I don’t want to lose. I will see the Potters again soon, I will be in Togo with them and my mother in a month. I am very excited to see all of them again and make new, wonderful memories. But right now when I am in the Potters house I feel stuck. Stuck between being excited for the future memories to be made in Togo, the past memories that will be forever stuck in that house but never relived, the acceptance of them potentially never coming back to Vanga, the sadness, the grief, the thankfulness. It’s a hard place to be and a very peculiar one too.