Well, what do I think about it?

We've all been inundated with the news of Osama's death.  Frankly, you may well be bored of hearing about it.  If so, don't read this :)
First up, I wish people would learn to pronounce Abbottabad. Given it's named after a British bloke by the name of 'Abbott', that gives a hint as to the pronunciation.  I know it's not always easy, but checking Wikipedia would probably do the trick...
Second, there's the whole, 'did the Pakistanis know that he was there?'.  Well, it's certainly a fair question I suppose, but it's also a bit daft.  It makes it sound like he was popping down the road to the chip shop every week, and managed to do so unnoticed (well, popping to the chai shop in the local bazaar would probably be a more likely scenario than the chip shop...)  When you think of major criminals being found, you rarely get the neighbours saying, 'oh yeah, we knew they'd been living there for ages'.  I know that's a slightly different case, because you don't know the identity of the criminal in such cases, but the fact remains that if the person next door doesn't want you to know who they are, you probably won't find out.  There are also plenty of elderly people in Pakistan who are cared for in the family home (much more likely than the 'care homes' we send old folk off to in the West) who you would never see.  So if you're wondering why the people next door seem to be buying extra food etc., they could merrily tell you they're looking after their sick aunt/elderly parents etc.  In a country where people are routinely in 'purdah', it's not difficult to hide someone in a house.  What's more, the walls were pretty immense, the windows pretty small, and, I imagine, the occupants fairly careful!
There's also the question of justice.  I think at the moment that I'm inclined to think that this is justice at least on one level.  If he really did declare war on the States, and was responsible for launching attacks, then he is, in effect, a combatant and therefore subject to the rules of war, which may include being killed.  It's not like he'd renounced his terrorist ideals and they hunted him down and shot him anyway.
Then there's the future.  What of it.  Well, a terrorist organisation is not like an animal that can be killed by decapitation.  Rather, it's more like a prolific weed (take Japanese knotweed as an example, if you want one).  The weed grows wherever the roots are in the soil.  Likewise, to deal with the terrorist organisation, you can't just take a strimmer to it and chop it down, you've got to dig it up.  That means more of a 'hearts and minds' approach.  (I hate that phrase in some respects, because it can smack of imperialism/colonialism 'they're all just a bit dim and need to be enlightened in the Western way of doing things' mindset, which is arrogant and wrong). In fact, doing something like killing Osama can end up being more like pruning than weeding.  The cause of the problem needs to be addressed.  I, for one, wonder if we've ever thought to ask people what their problem is.  Is it Palestine?  Well, fair point, we do seem to allow Israel to contravene whatever it likes...  Is it our historical raping of their countries' resources and wealth?  Another fair point.  Maybe we could talk about it though, and sort out mutually beneficial trade deals rather than shooting each other (it's less messy psychologically) as a means of restoring the parity. 
And of course, there's also the question of what happens to my beloved Pakistan.  Well, people are already accusing it left, right and centre of harbouring terrorists, though I've explained why I think it's not so clear cut already.  And OF COURSE there were people who knew he was there.  He'd have got mighty hungry if there weren't, but they were in the minority.  And it's over now anyway (that bit of it, at least...)  So Pakistan will be dragged through the mud again, and, however untrue accusations are, some mud will always stick.  And what of the safety of people there.  Well, that's been rather compromised.  The Christian community especially (in the minds of many Pakistanis, allied with the West) are likely to face, at the very least, increased persecution and vilification from some quarters.  My hope would be that the moderate Muslims are willing and able to make the most of the opportunity that has been presented to them.  There has been ample time for Islamic extremism to make its mark on the world, and on the attitudes of many people to Islam itself.  Perhaps some will now take the chance to redefine Islam in the eyes of the world.  The moderates don't need to change their message, they just need to speak a little louder.
Finally, there's the celebration of Osama's death.  Here, the West and in particular America, has failed.  How can we criticise the jubilation among Muslim groups following terrorist strikes, if we then celebrate with even greater aplomb the killing of one man?  Yes, a sense of relief is understandable, a sense of justice is probably also wise, but I'm just not so sure about the jubilation.  It's not like the war is over.  In fact, given the splintering down of many of the groups involved, it's hugely symbolic, but I'm not convinced it's much else. 
I guess now the challenge is to keep praying, and seeking to support those in areas of conflict.  Seeking also to understand those who seek to wrong us, and ensure that they have no cause to do so.
That's a few of my thoughts.  By no means all of them, and by no means are they set in stone.  Just a sort of initial response...

I have a goodly heritage.

Well, some time to reflect.
I was invited to an MK retreat this week. Specifically, I was invited to be on the panel for questions on the last day - I was there as a 'survivor' - an MK who'd 'successfully' made it through what for many of us is a long and painful transition. (Forgive me if I sound melodramatic) When I think of the phrase 'burning up on re-entry' (spaceships and the earth's atmosphere) I often think of being an MK and the process of 'coming home'. Though that's a bit of a weird phrase for it, because all of us MKs know that, when we return to our passport-country, we haven't come home - we've just left it. Anyway, the retreat this week was in some ways quite an emotional time for me (though I didn't cry ... in-joke ...). I remember going to MKOasis back in '92 and onwards. What an awesome support that was for me. And I owe such a great deal both to those who led me through that period, and those who walked the same road with me. You have my eternal gratitude.

And for those who don't quite get that, bear in mind that when you're speaking to a Missionary Kid, or perhaps any Third Culture Kid, who's just returned to their 'homeland' (normally the place where their passport hails from, and often the place they were born and visit from time to time to raise more money!) that you're likely to upset them with the question: "what's it like being home", or, sometimes even worse, "you must be so excited about being back home". You see, when an MK returns to their passport-country, they may well think that they've left home, not returned. And it's often not a sort of romantic, 'that chapter is over - a new one can begin'. No, it might well feel more like the book of their life so far has been slammed shut, and put to one side. No more pages to be written - the story's over. And the temptation for the MK is often to stick with that old book. Maybe it's because we feel that if we keep re-reading it, it won't really be over, and of course there's the fear that if we put the book down, we might begin to forget: and for many of us, there would be little worse than that.

Now, I guess maybe I should point out the obvious at this stage - it's not going to be the same for all of us. I guess it depends somewhat on the reasons for leaving. Some MKs are, I guess, the reason for leaving themselves. The most obvious reason would be, like Tim (my older brother) coming back to complete education. We came back as a family to England for his A levels, so maybe it's slightly different for him in that sense. He'd also graduated from school, so had perhaps had a fuller 'closure' that removed some of the reasons for wanting to return to Pakistan. (Feel free to comment on this Tim!!)

But the fact is, if the country (or countries) where you've lived as an MK means anything to you when you return to your passport-country, it'll always stay with you. It's a part of you. You can't lose it in one sense. It's secure in your heart. It might be over, but it's not gone, and it won't be forgotten. Some of the memories will fade, but that would happen anyway (we all get older!). I guess the difference is that new memories won't be made there any more. But the book that was written there is your story. And the new friends you make will want to learn about it. Ok, I'll be honest and say they probably don't want all the details. Comparing this country to the other one, the weather here to the weather there, your new friends to your old friends, and so on, will eventually wear thin for them! Think of it as a wedding photo album. In the initial period after a wedding, the bride and groom (ok, usually the bride!) love showing their wedding pics to everyone who can spare the time. There's the relatives who couldn't make the wedding, and the friends who didn't make the guest list, there's the old lady down the road who loves that sort of thing, then there's the postman who delivered all the cards, the milkman who just happened to come with his bill when you had the album out... But as the time passes, the album is more and more likely to stay on the shelf. Is that because the wedding stops being important? No, of course not. And every time the album comes out there's a flush of excitement, and the memories of that special day. Maybe it's the same with your memories of the home you've just had to leave. In the early days, it'll be at the forefront of your mind all the time. But as time goes on, it might fade a little. That's not something to worry about. You aren't betraying your heart - it's still perfectly secure. And there will always be times when the memories will be brought out again amidst smiles and feelings of longing to be there again, just for a little while.

I prayed a lot about what to say at the retreat, (mainly because I was scared!) and there were two particular verses that really stood out for me. The first was the 'old' version of Psalm 16:6 which includes the phrase: "yea, I have a goodly heritage". (For you young'uns, 'yea' there means 'yes', not 'yeah' or 'yippee')
This is a verse that cropped up for us as a family when we came back to England. The house we ended up buying was called 'The Heritage'. And it was called the Heritage because of that verse. I said to the young people on the MK retreat that they do have a goodly heritage. It's an awesome start to life. It's a huge privilege, I think, to be an MK. (It's also lifelong - your parents might stop being Missionaries, but somehow you never stop being an MK). Obviously, many people have found being an MK a burden more than a joy. But for me, I'm immensely proud of the heritage that God had granted me and my parents have forged for me (thanks mum and dad!). As MKs, the past we have is a good gift from God, and one that we can cherish. However, we shouldn't live there. If the past doesn't let go of us, or, more to the point, if we don't let go of it, we'll never have the chance to turn and look ahead to the future. It's a huge wrench for many of us. And it's not a decision as much as a process. For me, I think it involved both untangling myself from it, and plucking up the courage to release it as well.

And as I've already alluded to, the second verse is to do with the future. It's my favourite verse in the Bible. The reference (Jeremiah 29:11) is engraved on the inside of our wedding rings. And it's this:

"for I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."

I'm not sure I'd be able to think of a more appropriate verse for Mish Kids. It's a message that's brought at a time when God's people are at an all-time-low. They've been uprooted from their country, the country where God had placed them, the country that they love, the country where they feel secure (sounding familiar?) and brought to an inhospitable place. They don't belong, they don't fit in, and they don't really want to either. And God makes this extraordinary statement. It seems too good to be true, but it actually isn't. It is true. It comes just a couple of chapters before that spine tingling bit in Jer 31:31 - '"the time is coming", declares the Lord, "when I will make a new covenant"'. This promise is the start of something pretty major. I think it's a promise that can equally apply to MKs. God knows the plans he has for you, and they're plans for hope and a future.

And then, of course, there's the whole question of where home is. I'm not gonna say much about that (I've said plenty already about everything else!!). But I will say, hard though it has been for me to accept, I didn't really leave home when I left Pakistan. Neither did I come home when I returned to England. The Bible tells me that, in fact, I haven't got home yet. And my longing shouldn't be for any home I've left, but for the home that God has prepared for me with Him. The thought that I'll feel more at home there than anywhere on earth is both staggering and exciting.

Is it just me...

Or is this a slightly odd news story. (BBC News - headline 'Death rates at lowest ever levels in England and Wales')
Death rates going down?! I'm pretty sure it's something everyone does in the end. Is it just an awkwardly worded headline, or are we trying to hide from the inevitable. I mean, it's not like it's going to go out of fashion is it.
"Yeah, people used to die, but it's just not really the done thing any more - it's so passé"
Surely we need to know the truth and know the hope... One without the other is just empty. So death will come, but when Jesus came, He conquered it, and it's Him I'm trying to live my life for.