Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if...
I didn't daily drive my car past a straw-hatted man steering a team of ornery donkeys pulling a cart.
Droves of beautiful African children didn't run wildly waving their hands and screaming, “Dumela!” every time I passed by.
I didn't regularly confuse my cell phone vibrating with the lulling sound of the neighbor's cows.
My nightly routine didn't involve locking up the main house in it's security “cage” and then proceeding to lock myself into my own safe “cage” across the yard.
I didn't repeatedly scan the white walls of my cottage for critters of the creepy persuasion.
Going to the “Mall in Mochudi” didn't consist simply of buying groceries and gas for my car.
I was not compelled to scrub my filthy feet immediately upon arriving home from church.
I didn't have to legitimately avoid chickens, goats, and a plethora of other livestock who feel that the road is their territory.
I never had to use the phrase, “ I am going to town.” (As opposed to being in the village)
A day could pass by without having to repeatedly use the terms, “Premarital Sex,” “Risky behaviours,” “STDs,” and “HIV/AIDS,” in front of a classroom of charming uniform-wearing children.
I wasn't forced to master the slipper/Doom-Spray cockroach, poisonous spider, scorpion, (fill in nasty, disgusting creepy-crawler-invading-my-personal-space-HERE) death blow.
I didn't daily ponder why the littles in the village consistently greet me in the HIGHEST-pitched nasally voiced, “Helllloooooooo!” (Do they think I sound like that? Sure hope not.)
I didn't get to hang out every weekend with the most entertaining, about-to-rock-the-world-around-them-for-the-Kingdom-of-God youth.
I never got to see the love of God and the power of the resurrection transforming the lives of my precious church family.
Sometimes I wonder, what if... then it would not be the life that God has designed for me to live.
It wouldn't be an adventure.
It would be a counterfeit to God's best for me.