"I'm sorry. I can't do this." I laid the house key beside the note and I ran. Initially I didn't know where to go but I knew I couldn't stay. Maybe I’m crazy, maybe it was conviction from God, maybe a sign from Him, call it whatever you want but all I knew was in that moment I had to get as far away as I could. And going as far away as I could meant pointing my car in the direction of the one place I didn't want to go….the mountains, "home".
We had talked about it for months. Month 12 would be spent with family and friends and after a team reunion at the beach over Labor Day I would pack my bags and move to Wilmington. I would get a job, save some money and for a few months be a "responsible" American before packing my bags again to move to Kenya. But more importantly I would continue to live in the community I had come to love and realize how important it was. Community where I’d be loved, challenged, given feedback, worship sessions together, and so much more. Those were the plans, and it even felt like God confirmed them over and over starting in Malaysia.
But then Uganda happened, and I spent 2 1/2 weeks in the hospital before being sent home. I was ticked. I didn't want to come home so why was God forcing me to? The failure I felt inside was confirmed the first Sunday I was back at church. A supporter walked up to me and said, "So you gave up and came home. Can't say I blame you." That's all I needed to hear for the lies in my head to drown out the "we are glad you are home" and the "keep trusting God. This is part of His plans." The enemy took over and I could no longer see a glimpse of goodness in this new chapter.
God had shown me over the past year that being an introvert isn’t always healthy, even though I still desperately cling to my introvert tendencies. Living with 6 other people and always traveling with 63 people I’ve had to learn to let go and allow people to sit close to me, to use my things, to snuggle…basically my “bubble” was left in America last September. But there is more to being an introvert than the environment around us. I’m also an internal processer. I will discuss with a few close friends things bothering me only after I have processed them and come up with a solution on my own. One reason I keep things to myself is because I don’t want my thoughts and feelings to become the next subject on the gossip chain. I am also a people pleaser, so if I feel like my thoughts and feelings aren’t welcomed or are being threatened I will “turn off” the way I feel and put on a smile for the people around me; so sometimes my smiling face is nothing more than a defensive mechanism.
So after being home for a few weeks I stopped trying to process reentry and the whole coming home early thing and just started smiling and telling people I was happy to be here. And this lie worked until I was reunited with some of my team members in August. It was so good to see my girls!! I had missed them so much, but along with my excitement to see them came the lies and doubts of failing not only the Race but failing my team, my friends, my sisters. I listened to stories of the final two months, team adventures, lessons God had taught them, and dreams He had planted in their hearts. I was excited for them, but my heart hurt because I felt and started to believe the lies that God didn’t want those things for me. That my identity and freedom I had found in Him over the past year was nothing but a joke and somebody was standing in the corner yelling, “GOTCHA!!!”
My biggest fear in coming back to America was falling back into the routine of things and becoming “American minded” with I need a job, I need health insurance, I need an apartment, I need a phone, I need to build my savings back up, I need, I need, I need. I mean come on after traveling to some of the poorest places in the world over the past 3 years do I really think for even a second that I NEED anything? I don’t want to fall back into that mindset.
The drive from Carolina Beach to Hendersonville is 5 hours and 15 minutes. 12 hours in the car that day. One would think by the time I reached my destination I would have processed everything, processed the processing, and figured out solutions to all the problems of the world. Not how things went, to be honest I don't remember any part of the drive and I was a bigger mess when I took my final exit than I was when I started driving. I viewed coming back to Hendersonville as settling, falling back into my old lifestyle of materialism and living for myself and in the moment. Coming back meant being reminded weekly and sometimes daily of my failures and of all the times I’ve disappointed people. Reminded that I’m now 29 years old, single, childless and with no plans in the near future to change that. For me coming back to Hendersonville was a punishment.
I can’t tell you why God has brought me back to Hendersonville. Day by day, through conversations, quiet times, worshipping while driving down the road, and through hugs from my 14 month old nephew and one of my best friend’s 16 month little girl I am finding God and His plan for being here. Maybe I came home for the rising 6th graders I spent the summer with at church, for the 3rd grader who both of her parents were deployed within 2 months of each other and she asked how I could be happy and always smile when I couldn’t even walk, or maybe it was to hang out with my brother and for our relationship to grow deeper. I don’t know and maybe I’ll never know, but it doesn’t really matter. My prayer has changed from God take me away from this place to God break my heart for Hendersonville the way you have for the nations. Show me where You are, open my eyes to the things you have planned and the things you have for me to do. Fill me with your joy!!
