"Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head." Matt 8:20

Burnt earth and countryside imposes itself upon us as we drive through Tanzania. Here the people burn the surrounding hills before replanting. The problem with this ‘purification’ of the land is that it doesn’t work and it has a negative effect on the environment.

“I hate fire.” mutters the ten year old next to me as we drive through this destroyed environment. “It’s not good for anything.” I try to explain that it is good for warmth, cooking etc but she denies it. And I don’t blame her; why would you accept anything good from the thing which has just changed your existence and you have always known it?

This landscape is a sudden reminder of what we are driving home to face; a burnt existence, ashes remaining of a family’s life as they knew it only two weeks ago.

As we drive through the burnt rolling hills we have to exclaim “Isn’t it stunning!” And it is. The smoke rolls up off the hills and the sun shines through the smog, remaining greenery gleams in exuberant contrast to its smouldered surroundings. It is absolutely beautiful.

This all makes me wonder; what do we classify as home? Is it the physical place where our belongings are? Or where we have the most memories? Is it where our loved ones are? Or where we are placed for the time being?

Technically I guess you could argue that Iringa is my home at the moment, while I am in Tanzania. It is where I am mostly based. However, actually my home is in the UK but even there it is questionable as to where home is for me there.

Last night as I prepared to leave yet another place of residence before completing the last leg of our mini-adventure, inside this great big one I am having. I realised there was part of me dreading going back to Iringa and part of me excited about the prospect and instantly my brain acknowledged it as home. Why I am not sure but it did. It is a muddled feeling to think of it in this way, yet it feels quite peaceful.

But for the Harts will Iringa ever feel like home again? I’m not sure. We will explore this concept more over the coming weeks I feel.

In Matthew Jesus tells the disciples that foxes have homes and birds have nests but the son of man has no-where to rest our head. In Philippians 3:20 Paul tells us that heaven is our home. So is it any wonder we struggle sometimes to define a home on earth?

As an individual who has moved house many times this is an area of conversation I have with my parents regularly; do we have a home as such? In some ways no and, in others, yes. Many times we have been brought back to these bible passages.

One thing which is apparent is that there is ‘stunning’ beauty in everything- even the most burnt, blackened existences. May I be so cheesy as to say; especially when the son shines through?

Even now in the heartbreak and trauma of a burnt lost home God has provided in the most amazing and superb ways; the way only He can! Particularly in the form of good friends – I feel so blessed to have you!

As we drive towards Iringa smoke filling our eyes, so they sting, and our noses, seeing locals burning the land, I wait in trepidation for what God has in store for us now. Holding on to the promise that one day those of us who know Jesus will be home eternally. What a great day that will be!

Later we had a conversation in the car which included where home was for the Hart’s.

Thanks for your love and prayers,

As always please let me know any prayer requests you have.

Love and Blessings, Deborah ><>