The view is stunning. The flowers, though they’ve only just begun to bloom, are breathtaking. The air is so silent that you can hear the flapping wings of an unknown insect, as it flutters from plant to plant. The calls of exotic birds and the rustling of palm branches create the soundtrack for this mild, sunny afternoon. If you are seeking a retreat, this is the kind of place you dream of. If you need to get away, this is where you go. Very soon, it will be my home.
I can’t really explain what it’s like to sit in a house half a world away and to imagine your life there. I know that in just a few short months, the quiet stillness of this place will be pierced with the laughter of two little Mosley girls playing in the front year. I know that the beauty of the lush landscape will eventually become familiar, and that, at times, it won’t seem like a retreat at all. But as I watch pale yellow butterflies weave through our own personal Eden, I’m reminded that God is in this place. 
No, it’s not perfect. There are cracks where there shouldn’t be, and a few rotten planks of wood on the front porch. There are cosmetic flaws that most people wouldn’t tolerate back home. The industrial vinyl tile on the floor begs for rugs, the walls could use fresh coat of paint, and the front yard jungle could use a little trim. Still, this already feels like home – or at least, what home could be.
My prayer is that God will infuse the atmosphere of this place. I pray for many shared meals, new relationships, deep (and not so deep) conversations. For laughter, for tears, for hope, for life. May this house be a place of comfort for many, and may it always be a place where others know they will be greeted with a hardy, “Karibu! Welcome to our home.”
