Growing up, we never relocated as much as other families around us. My mother got a job and settled in Isiolo way before I was born, so we have called that home for the longest time. This meant that as a kid, I got to establish lifelong friendships and value the gift of friendship. It would be such a big deal anytime I had a misunderstanding with a friend (I would get so emotional, and enlist my mom as a mediator, hehe).

However, unlike other kids whose parents relocated often, I neither experienced the adventure nor gained the skills to strike new friendships quickly. Now, as an adult, facing inevitable relocations and transitions, I feel the impact big time! Whether it’s due to globetrotting or moving to a new place due to work responsibilities, joining a new school for further studies, taking part in exchange programs outside the country, or even settling down in a family away from home (As I am almost doing 😅), as adults we tend to have nomadic lifestyles most of the time.

My profession as a field mining engineer adds a unique twist — my job hinges on the life of mines (The number of years a mine will be in operation). So, when one shuts down, I must relocate to where another begins, adding a layer of unpredictability to my life. In these transitions, the desire to connect and belong remains constant. I’ve observed the excitement in children (my younger sister and cousins always wanting to travel away from home for months) as they adapt to new environments, effortlessly making friends. Their lack of fear in parting ways with their old friends, and confidence in forming new connections, contrasts sharply with the apprehension adults feel. The fear of starting afresh, of trusting strangers, and of recreating the intimacy of past relationships plagues us.

“Are their intentions pure? Will they take advantage of my vulnerability? Will they love me unconditionally as my old friends did? Do we have the bandwidth to handle each other’s drama and complexities right now?” These questions echo in our minds, delaying potential connections and losing precious time that is meant for serving each other with the gifts bestowed upon us by God. Sometimes, we realize too late the value of those missed opportunities, especially if those we hesitated to connect with are no longer within reach.

This week, as I bid farewell to my friend, Sam, whose presence in my life was tragically brief, I couldn’t help but lament the time we lost. I knew him 10 months ago when I started fellowshipping in the church in Ukunda, but I only began interacting with him 3 months before his death thinking that we had a whole lifetime to share hugs, laughter, and stories. We all think we have this, don’t we? However, reflecting on James 4:13–17, I realized the folly of assuming time is abundant and forgetting the fleeting nature of our existence.

I lamented the seven lost months of potential friendship, and at that moment, standing before his casket viewing his lifeless body, I now wished that that last hug would have been warmer and more intentional and that the last conversation and tuk-tuk ride we had together would have been longer so that we would spend more time together.

As I said my final goodbye to him, I prayed that as the Lord teaches us to number our days, He may enable us to approach every interaction with greater intentionality, faithfully serving those He has put around us, and embracing the uncertainty of tomorrow with humility.