"Move with effort. Clamber."
The past few weeks have been a blur of exciting things - you would be jealous if I detailed it properly. There's been coffee and cake, cocktails and papier-mache (really), a theatre trip to the animal kingdom, a few parties featuring exotic cuisine, wine and lots of cheese.
If I were to gush about London life, I would probably mention some of the above - the variety of social activities on the doorstep, the numerous amazing restaurants and of course, all of my favourite coffee shops.
But there's another side to London that's a lot more modest and less costly. See, in London, community is so much more important than you think. Over my two and a half years here I've written about loneliness in one of the world's biggest cities, about developing friendships, and now, about the people who are my everyday heroes.
I mean the people who I've lived with - who have endured me using every kitchen utensil every time I've cooked. I mean the people who I've worked with - who have patiently listened to my mundane stories. I mean the people who I've worshipped with - who have faithfully comforted, supported and prayed.
Community in London is, quite frankly, not talked about enough. And when one is in community, it's so easy to take it for granted - none of the above activities are half as much fun without someone to enjoy it with. It's hard to be in a big city, alone.
I should know, because when I arrived, I felt very much alone.
Yet gradually, some of the inhabitants of this city have opened their arms to me. And slowly, I've grasped that being part of a community is opening your arms right back. Two and a half years later and I'm comfortable in London. Like one is comfortable in a cosy armchair. You can't just get up and leave. It takes effort. It takes a climb.
My Rwandan adventure starts in one week with a big trek across London to get to the airport. It's sort of fitting that the journey there is so inconvenient because in many ways, it feels like leaving is too.
I'm in the middle of the good stuff. The amazing friendships, the excellent job, the beautiful Church family. Everything is great.
But it's time to go. And as an explanation, here are some words from a few months ago. The words that made my decision for me. The words that explain why I'm doing what I'm doing.
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And here's how I see it, from my mountaintop. I can sit here and enjoy the view for a bit longer. It's not going to be horrible or boring; the view doesn't get boring when it's beautiful. But I'm always going to wonder - what happens if I don't try climbing now? Yes, opportunities for other climbs could happen, but not this one. I doubt very much I'll run away and explore a new view when more permanent mountaintop villas are placed in front of me.
If I stay, things will be beautiful.
But I'm always going to wonder.
If I leave, I'm going to be scared. I'll be at the bottom of a new and unfamiliar mountain and it's going to feel hard. I'm going to wonder why I left my pretty mountaintop view and made myself start all over again. The climb will be tricky and the view won't be great, for a while.
Until I keep climbing and reach a new mountaintop. A bigger one. A view that's new and enthralling and exciting.
And then I'll realise why I left the other mountain because I'll have seen two beautiful views, not one. And then it will all start to make sense. But only then.
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So, I guess it's time to start climbing.
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