Alright, I said I was done with World Race blogging, but I couldn’t help myself so here is one more.
May 11th, I got on the plane in Managua, Nicaragua with my heart pounding and full of excitement, nerves, anxiousness, and joy. I was going home. I didn’t know if it would feel just like home anymore though. Nine months is a long time. I wasn’t quite sure how I would react to being back to a lovely house with air conditioning, a pantry and fridge full of brand name food, my clean bathroom, etc. I wasn’t sure how I would handle seeing my awesome family and friends that I had gone without for so long. Am I going to cry, laugh, smile, or pass out? I honestly had no clue how I would feel. All I thought was that the transition would be overwhelming.
Long story short, I landed in Miami with watery eyes. I was on American soil. Walking through the airport to my connecting gate ended up probably being the most overwhelming part of coming home. Things were great, overwhelmingly great. And I wasn’t even home yet.
Fast forward about four more hours and I am landed in DFW. I booked it to baggage claim and tackled my little sister for the first time in nine months. I gave my mom and dad big, long, and much needed hugs that I had looked forward to for so long. And just like that I was home. We drove home as I gazed out the window, my head flooding with memories of different places and people and memories of life growing up in Texas. We reached our beautiful home and as soon as I stepped in the door and cuddled with my pup, it felt like I had never left.
It was strange. Even though the trip felt like years at times while on the field; I literally felt like I had only been gone for a few weeks. So take note of that, any racers that may be struggling on the field and wanting to come home right now. The first few weeks have been busy and filled with joy of reuniting with loved ones I had missed deeply. I have gotten to eat my favorite foods, enjoy the luxuries of America, spend time with my family, celebrate my sister’s high school graduation, begin working again, and seen so many great friends.
Nothing feels weird or new. It feels normal.
However, I have come to the realization that something is new and different.
I see things differently. I view home differently. I love my house, but now, I see our family room as a room that could house a whole Cambodian orphanage, in better condition than how they are living now. I have a family that would do anything for me and I wonder why I got that and so many kids around the world didn’t. I see my leftovers on everyone’s plate when we go out to eat and I see enough food to fill a whole human being’s stomach. I take hot showers and still remember those who bathe with rainwater, out of a bucket, outside, daily. I ride in nice cars and think of those who are stuck in one place, hopeless, with nowhere to go. I go to bed every night wondering why I have so much.
Sometimes, “life after the race feels like a square peg trying to fit back into a circle hole.” Quoted from one of my fellow racers. It is true.
So lately I have been thinking a lot about “home”. Define, “home”… What is home? I find myself lying in bed in my house and I feel homesick… Why, though? After all, I am finally home. But I have come to the realization that my heart is officially dispersed all around the world and sometimes it misses the adventure. A little bit of my heart longs for my cozy, little, pallet on the floor in Thailand. My heart misses the bush in Cambodia and all of the orphans that changed my life for the better. I get homesick for my container that I lived in, in Africa right on the beach. My heart even misses the long, hot days on an island in Nicaragua and the countless sunsets I enjoyed. I get homesick for the race and that is honestly not something I though I would say when I came home to everything I thought I needed.
So where is home when your heart is scattered all over the world? I have made a home in the Dallas, TX area where I have grown up my whole life. I found a new home in Natchitoches, LA where I spent four years in college. And now, I have a home in a village in Thailand and Cambodia, Cape Town, and on an island in Lake Nicaragua. Plus, I am planning on making a new home in Birmingham, AL when I move soon.
So where is home, really? Home is not where you lay your head at night. Home is not even where your family is.
Home is where our Heavenly Father is.
I read something the other day that really caught my attention.
“For the Christian, death is not a venture into the unknown. It’s a going home experience. It’s a welcoming into the arms of the King.
This helped me realize something about my life and my race. Coming back to America was not the end of my race. It is just another leg of the marathon we call life. The end of my race will be when I walk into the gates of Heaven one day, our true home. But really, I think that is just the beginning.
But for now, on this earth, home is where we can dwell in God’s presence, where you feel Him the most, where you are at peace. So for now my heart resides in homes all around the world… Lucas, Sikhoraphum, Takeo, Cape Town, Ometepe… and so many other places that God has taken my heart and hopefully many more are to come! I guess the saying goes to prove true.
“Home is where the heart is!”
