Welp, it’s been a long time since I last posted (per usual). I really did think I’d be better at blogging than this, but I must have underestimated the World Race…
Or maybe, mostly, I underestimated all the ways Holy Spirit speaks so intimately to break my heart and heal it at the same time. Putting all those sweet conversations with him into words is a tough task for a girl like me.
I woke up this morning in a white, king size hotel bed. All by my lonesome.
I couldn’t hear Christi turning the pages of her Bible as she listened to God’s Word. I couldn’t hear the clanging of pots and pans as Anna started cooking breakfast. I couldn’t hear Danny laughing, Jace’s music playing, or the shower running as Laura got herself ready for the day.
It was quiet this morning.
This new silence is strange and peaceful and intimidating and restful.
I’m back.
Back in America. Back with my family.
And I’m a little unsettled by the familiarity of it all.
Things are totally different and exactly the same,
and so am I, I guess.
We could sit for hours and look at billions of pictures of people and places and things I’ve seen.
We could laugh at my weird version of Asian Spanglish I’ve found myself speaking after being ESL for a whole year.
We could eat the strange foods I’ve learned to cook and we could dance tribal dances and we could play village games and we could get lost in story after story until we’re crying so hard we are laughing, or laughing so hard we are crying!
I’m counting down the days until the sleepover at Savannah’s house. I’m counting down the days until my first Sunday at Journey. I’m counting down the days until I hug every single teacher in the Preschool hallway at Whitefield. I am dancing in anticipation and excitement!
But I’m scared, too.
I’m scared because these pictures and languages and foods and dances and games and stories have all become intricate pieces of WHO I AM.
And sharing that is scary.
What’s worse is that these are the very least of who I am. They are broad-scale, fly-over views of the vastness of my heart and they can never be equated to the details hidden in the nearness.
It would be easy to get caught up in pictures and stories, but when we do I am lost. Lost in the emotions, lost in the curiosity, and lost in the past. When we come together to share all of these things, it’s not the “things” that matter: it’s the COMING TOGETHER that matters. It’s me knowing you and you knowing me for exactly who we are right now.
That’s what I hope our reunions look like.
Togetherness. The real kind.
I hope we can find the beauty in the details that are hidden in the nearness of our hearts.
And as I relearn you and you relearn me, I hope we find ourselves reveling in new sides of God’s face.
Because, really, if you ever make it to the very center of my heart, that’s who you’ll find: Jesus.
He’s taken up permanent residency, and on your way to the center of my heart you won’t find a single corner of it that hasn’t been touched by his Spirit and drastically transformed.
Sure, some places look familiar after his touch. Yes, some look completely and radically different. Always, some are still under construction. But all are undeniably HIS.
Goodness gracious, I’ve missed you all.
And after all the goodbyes this year, saying hello would do my soul some good. “Re-entry” can be an intimidating word, but we’ll figure it out together with lots of love and grace.
