21 days.
That’s how long I’ve been back in the States.
In 21 days I have celebrated my brother-in-law and godson’s birthdays, had a welcome home party, entertained my niece and nephew’s paternal grandmother, visited a new church, met new people, and spent time with family. Yesterday I turned 28 years old.
21 days.
I thought that I would be disturbed by materialism, self-centeredness, crassness. I thought that there would be this huge adjustment I’d have to make regarding “normal” things like being able to take a “real” shower every day without worrying about how much water I was using, or crude language on TV, or nude people on magazines and advertisements, or actually having more than 6 t-shirts and 3 bottoms to choose from. (I’ve rotated wearing the same 5 pieces of clothing almost every day for 21 days…)
But those things haven’t really been that big of a deal.
21 days.
In 21 days I’ve heard more people than I can count say things like, “I know you’re so glad to be home!” “I know you couldn’t wait to have __________ again!” “I know you saw some crazy stuff over there.” “Girl, I was praying for you every day!” “I just think it’s so great what you did. I know your parents are so proud of you!” They don’t know.
But I stand and smile really big like a robot because that’s what I’m supposed to do. Because when I tried to be honest I heard, “That sounds really sad” before the person quickly tried to change my perspective and cheer me up.
21 days.
The truth is that in 21 days I can count on one hand how many times I’ve had a real conversation with God. How many times I’ve read my bible. How many times I’ve written in my journal. How many times I’ve worshipped.
The truth is that my body made it back safe and sound but I’m not sure where my spirit and soul are. It’s like I’m the shell of a person who used to be but is no more.
I try to read my bible but it’s just words on a page. I try to pray but nothing comes to mind. I try to sing to Him, but it seems heartless. I try to write my thoughts but I don’t like the pen, and nothing comes to me anyway.
I knew the community we created on the Race was important and that things would be different here at home. But this is a whole other ball game. Living in a city that I left 10 years ago where everything is weirdly normal. But it’s a normal that I don’t quite understand anymore. One of my former squad mates sent me a message asking how she can be praying for me and it took me 4 days to reply because I had no idea what to say.
21 days.
If I was on the Race I would probably be packing my bags and starting to say good byes because between days 21 and 24 we usually were hopping on a bus, van, or plane to head to our next destination.
On day 21 in America, though, I’m still trying to say hello.
These are the lyrics of a song my team sang at a church in Jamaica. We were prepared that time 🙂 Now as I look at it, though, I think this is my prayer. That I would become more aware of His presence.
