One week.
That’s how long it has been since I’ve hit the status of “re-entry”.
Since I left the “world.”
Since I came home from 11 countries (13 if you’re counting the border hopping we chose to do sometimes).
What a transition. What a process.
The first day home a lot of my friends and family were at my house. The days and hours building up to seeing the people who have been such a support to me over the last year were mind boggling.
I wasn’t sure how I would respond to the reunion or how they would respond or if they would like the me I have changed into or if they would notice that I sound like a “northerner” now. I wasn’t sure how I would respond to clear English being spoken and seat belts and stoplights and chicken without bones and coffee from a Keurig.
I wasn’t sure.
I’m still not sure of a lot of things. It took a few days for my walking/babbling niece to warm up to me since I left her when she was doing neither of those things. My brother is currently deployed and when I finally do see him it will be the longest we have gone without being in the same city. I also had to meet my best friends’ newest baby who is only a few months old. There are lights lining the interstate that weren’t there when I left. My favorite coffee shop is now an Irish Pub. I went and ran for the first time in quite sometime and the way my body responded is much different than it would have responded 11 months ago.
Things are different here in America. America is organized. There are lines on the road and people actually stop at lights and stop signs. There are well formed lines in Target where no one cuts in front of you. I got back to a closet full of things I haven’t had for 11 months so what am I wearing right now? Among other things, the flannel that I wore a whole lot on the race is currently on me like a comfort blanket and a hat is on my head. If it counts for anything, it’s a new hat that I just bought today.
One thing that has been frustrating for me over this week of “re-entry” is that I feel like I can’t verbally communicate what is in my heart and soul. I want to tell so many stories about what the Lord has done in the world and in myself. I feel like becoming a good communicator was one of my strong points coming out of the race and to not be able to put things into words is hard.
Then I’m reminded by people in my life… it’s only been a week and it was a whole YEAR.
The story will come.
In time.
So, until then. If you have my number or my Facebook of if you want to message me here… ask me questions. Tough ones, funny ones, easy ones, emotional ones. I would love to answer. I can’t verbally tell you a story to capture this whole year. I just can’t.
But I can answer your questions. I want you to ask them. If I get overwhelmed, I’ll get back to you with the answer. But don’t be afraid to ask me my worst bathroom experience or the top spiritual moments that happened. All are worth telling.
Tonight I went to dinner with my parents. They have been so great in this process. Patience is key and they have it down. So, we were waiting on our food and I was talking about how I have met people over the last week who have been following along with the last 11 months. People that I didn’t know. My parents started telling me of stories of people who kept reminders in their cars to pray for me every single day. That they prayed for the squad as a whole.
I lost it.
This journey is not only about what the Lord did in me or through me. This journey is about what He still wants to do through my answering your questions and telling you stories of all the things I have seen Him do over 11 months.
Let’s have coffee. Or dinner. Or breakfast is actually my favorite thing.
