This is hard. Transition.
Having these wonderful people at my fingertips, yet feel them
being pulled away by a thing called time and a place called home.
We are all excited about going home, seeing and touching our
family’s. But they have been my family this year.
I know I get to see my family and friends, my house, my town etc.
I know what it is I can look forward to… I remember. It is unknown what I have to look forward to
in regards to this family. They are
scattered all over the place. Possibly
never to be in the same place at the same time ever again.
My family and friends are at home. I rest assured. This family is off and time has run out. What does this mean?
There is a mix of emotions and it is too much to handle I simply
feel numb. To not feel is easier than to try and figure out appropriate
reactions to these true feelings. So I
take it hour by hour and day by day.
Soaking in their presence, their voices, their laughs, their smiles,
their jokes, support, prayers their love and their hearts.
Just to run into these brothers and sisters and share, hear and
care for them is priceless. An honor and
humbly moved by the love my Father has for me by placing me in the presence of
these 51 people this year. To watch them
grow and trust that they know who I am and who God made me to be. Enough so that if I am not acting or thinking
according to who God made me to be or what God say’s about me… I am
reminded. What a beautiful environment which has allowed the grace for mistakes and a space for me to flourish.
We had worship tonight and I tried to soak in their voices, the
strumming of the guitars, and the rhythm of the drums. Every song brought back memories of people
and places, women, children and ministry.
I was a mess.
What do I do with all of these emotions, all of these memories? I
don’t know.
I head home in a few days. (here is a blog from Steph Pridgen… who said it SO well… that many other racers have used her words to describe where we’re at…)
I feel like we are strangers now. I know you and you know me but we have missed
out on one another’s lives for almost a year. You have seen glimpses of my
stories through the sentences I have written but there is so much untold, so
much unseen, so much that is simply unexplainable.
Please know that I am glad to see you. I am excited to hug
you, to see your smile, to share life again with you. However, I am also torn.
I am leaving behind another family, new friends, and all that has become
familiar.
I will laugh at things, as will you, and we will not
understand why the other finds it funny. I will probably melt into a puddle of
tears and be unable to tell you why. I
will most likely dance for joy at random, normal American things, likes clothes
dryers, and it will seem silly.
I am two weeks from landing on US soil again and already I
feel the pressure. It lurks in my thoughts and it invades my dreams. I cannot
tell you what is next because I do not know. I cannot tell you how I will pay
my bills or afford normal commodities of American life. I cannot fathom how to neatly
summarize a year that has encompassed every emotion imaginable.
I am not sure what you expect of my return. I am not coming
home as a beautifully wrapped, crisp-cornered Christmas present. Instead, I am something
like a present that is patch-worked together with previously used paper and
half a roll of tape.
I guess what I am trying to say is that our reunion may look
a little differently than expected. I am asking for your love and patience,
sprinkled with a little grace and mercy, as we both adjust to my return.
Love you. See you soon.
