houseguests

Yes, here we are. Back again.

Two weeks ago, we were host to the Nyathi family for nine whole days. Vincent has been a houseguest several times before, but this was the first time he visited from South Africa with his family in tow. It was, in fact, his family's first time out of South Africa. Their first time on a plane. Their first time in the states. Their first time in our little house. All together. Vincent, Gloria, Mandla and Busi.

When we pulled up to the airport, it was like seeing family. They looked rumpled and exhausted from the long, long flight. But they were happy to be here finally. And we were happy to finally have them here.

You see: the Nyathis are part of my South African family. When I was there four years ago, they took me into their home. They fed me. They loved me. They made me laugh. They taught me to sing. They made me an unofficial citizen of Mamelodi.

They introduced my heart to South Africa, and I fell in love. With them and the country both.

So, it seems only fitting - and a great privilege to have been part of their first experience here. To have them in our house. To feed them, love them and make a place for them to rest in my home.

It was such a time. Near the end, they said: we have had the time of our lives. And we felt the same way. Many late-night conversations. Many meals together. Many walks through the neighborhood with Daisy the Dog. So much to remember. So much to learn from each other. So much to laugh about.

One night, our house was full of friends who wanted to see the Nyathis. We made a huge pot of spaghetti, and everyone sprawled across our small house, talking and talking into the evening. There were a few moments when I just sat quietly and looked around at all these people in my house, connected by South Africa, connected by the Nyathis.

After everyone left, we had them all to ourselves again, so we went for a late-night walk together. And we started singing worship songs in Zulu and Tsonga. We sang along the path between houses softly lit. We sang them right into the night sky. And even when we stopped singing at my front door, my heart continued to sing.

So, you can see then, why I cried when we said goodbye. And why, in spite of the pleasantness of having the little house quietly ours again - we miss them very much.