I’ve developed a new obsession while living in Austin: farm fresh eggs and bread made from scratch. This obsession is fed by the near daily farmer’s markets that are at my beck and call. On Sunday we decided to take a break from church shopping (one whole week of it was exhausting) to go out to brunch and restock these now staples. Sunday means Hope Farmer’s Market.

One of my most treasured possessions is a basket woven out of grass & brought to me from Ghana. It has carried everything from a picnic, to dinner to a friend in need of comfort, or s’more fixings for a night on the beach. We call it the “ghana basket” but it’s purpose in my life reaches farther than what it carries. When I pack it with a feast, I reminded of how easy and full of resources my life is. I think of the women who craft these pieces of art as a means of survival…and how their idea of survival might not even qualify as such for me. I am reminded of how a faraway place, a people, a land across the ocean…can call to you so deeply that you are homesick for a place you have never been.  I am reminded that joy has little to do with quality of life or luxury and I am moved to reduce the things I collect and store if it means I can lessen their need at all.

With all four littles in tow clucking about all fresh things surrounding us that we could take home, we spot a tent at the very end. Before I can say it or even hope, there is a clamor of “GHANA BASKETS!” And they are right. The culture has become so familiar that in an import store they can spot a pattern, texture, or material and know…it is from the part of the world that a piece of our hearts reside. Ghana in Austin?

I believe their are people that are meant to be part of our story. I think you find each other in unlikely ways…ways that you can only credit the Divine. But lately…even my view of providence has been pushed out to include something I might have earlier referred to as mere irony.

As we approached the last tent of the market, we introduced ourselves and chatted as I picked a basket. We shared a little of our story about our love for Ghana and our fresh arrival in Austin. She told us hers. She shared her heart for the village her husband grew up in and their desire to bring life in the form of a water well back to it. I gave her my card and we made vague plans to get together soon. Her invitation to her home was the first of it’s kind in our new life…I could have you over for dinner. It was a sweet, sweet moment followed only by still sweeter.

After the exchange of a little more information, we made the kind of discovery that makes my heart do a little dance and reminded me I am exactly where I am supposed to be. She doesn’t live nearby…they live in the same apartment complex.

Ghana in Austin. ♥

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