things I'll miss 3.0

Time is moving at a pace that's far too quick for me. I keep being astonished every time I look at the calendar - seven weeks - no SIX weeks left!

We've got a team from Canada here to do some missions work with until the 11th of June and life is full and busy and tiring. The laundry is running, the floors are sandy, toys are everywhere and the evenings are loud.
But life is good and I feel like I'm trying to stay sane and go to bed early all the while soak in as much as I can before we go.

I'll miss the pineapple. The sweet, drippy, cheap pineapple.

I'll miss driving here in Kampala. I know. It's true I complain about it a lot, but I think it's a love-hate relationship. I love how victorious I feel after I've driven somewhere here. I have driven {and driven well, I might add} in Kampala. I have survived the chaos of this city. I can maneuver potholes like a boss. And I have learned how to laugh at bad drivers and foolish moves instead of going all crazy road-rage on them.

I'll miss the beautiful and cheap flowers. I've never had so many fresh flowers in my home. Ever. I'll definitely miss the flowers.

I'll miss our slow, simple life. This I think most of all. Yes, some days I feel like a hermit and I have few friends here and I rarely get out and sometimes I'm seconds away from pulling my hair out of my head, but I know that moving back to Canada is going to change all that. The rest of this year {probably} we'll be doing life at a somewhat frenzied pace. I am going to try my hardest to keep our lives simple and streamlined and filled with things and people that refresh and renew us, but I'm also keeping my expectations realistic {or at least I'm trying to}.

I'll miss our huge yard. And the freedom I feel in just sending my kids outside to play, knowing they can't actually get outside our gate. Oh I'm sure I'll send my kids outside to play as I'm all for kids getting outside and I don't buy into the myth that North American streets are unsafe, scary, traumatizing places. But really? We'll never have a yard like the one we have here. It's awesome.

We'll miss chapatis {local flatbread, similar to a tortilla}, and samosas and pork from street vendors. We'll miss cold rainy mornings,  hot middays and breezy evenings overlooking the city.

We'll miss knowing the owners at a couple different restaurants here and the perks that come with that.

So many more things we'll miss. The process of leaving is only beginning.

things I will miss 2.0 {an ongoing series}

This weekend we said good-bye to our dearest friends here in Uganda.
It sucked.

I am overwhelmed with the kindness of God when I think back on these past two years and the bright light that my friendship with Kelly has been.
I will miss hanging out with Kelly and her boys. I will miss watching our boys tear around their house and being the three musketeers or Star Wars or Angry Birds characters. They all played so well together and I can even recall a time when we had to separate them or give time outs or anything. I will miss the ease and welcome we felt in their home to just be. I will miss sitting down in the dining room or living room with a cup of coffee and sharing our lives and the things God had been teaching us or the books we'd been reading or the music we'd been listening to.
I will miss the beauty of the drive home coming down the various hills and seeing the city and the cathedral with the sun glinting off the dome on top.
I will miss this wonderful friend and gift from God. I will miss this season of friendship and this "doing life" with someone who intimately understands exactly what I am going through. Oh we'll still be friends - but this next year with them in New Jersey and us in Canada, distance will alter the way our friendship looks.
When I ask the boys what they will miss about Uganda, they always say "Seth & Caleb!".
Yup. We'll miss you, Hallahans!

things I will miss {an ongoing series}

I've starting compiling in my head and on paper, a list of things I will miss about living here in Kampala.

Right now a storm has just rolled in. I'm hit with that incredibly powerful, heady smell of warm rain hitting dry soil. The temperature drops slightly as winds blow through our open-windowed house. The sound of the rain is so much louder than I'm used to in Canada because of the type of roof we have. It's not exactly corrugated metal, but it's no Canadian {insulted and quiet} roof, either. I love it. Right now the rain falls steadily, but it's not overpowering. Yet. The boys are scared of it. {These same boys are now outside as it storms even harder, with thunder and pounding rain. They frolic about in the deep puddles as if it's not at all scary. Strange children.} I tell them it's a sound that I could fall asleep to and they look at me like I have three heads. Thunder is rolling around in the distance.

I love the rainy season.

I will definitely miss rainy season.

I love the birds here. The massive Marabou Stork with its ugly head, but impressive wing span. Just hanging out in the city. Eating garbage.
The "laughing birds", as I call them that hang out in our trees and tell jokes to each other and then trying to be the one who has the last laugh.
The ones with the long beaks with their black feathers that glisten with dark blues and purples if you watch them in the sun. They come and eat the bugs in our grass and then fly away when we stand by our window and clap really loudly.
The roosters that crow. All throughout the day. Silly roosters.
I hear the birds in the trees in our front and back yards and even if I am woken by them in the morning, it doesn't bother me like being woken by crows did back when I lived with my parents. {I hated those crows.} I will miss these birds.

Our view. I've written about our view before. But it's a glorious, amazing, blessing of a view that we get to wake up and look outside and see this.

to be continued....