Let me tell you a story. Something that happened the other day.
I was laying in my bed, In the dark of night, covers pulled up to my chin, shaking. I was paralyzed with fear because of the monster under my bed.
I could see it’s shadow on the wall. Lurking. Threatening. The more scared I got, the bigger and bigger the shadow became. Or maybe it was the other way around, I can’t really remember. It started making noises. It had the scariest teeth I had ever seen. I thought surely at any moment it would attack me. I burrowed further down in my bed and refused to move. I mean, I wanted to get up. But we all know what happens when you get out of the bed with a monster under it. He grabs you by the ankles and pulls you to your death.
I’m too young to die.
So I had made up my mind I would just stay in my bed forever. But, my Dad, He knows me so well, He must have known I was scared. Because He walked in my room, just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore and flipped on the lights. with a soothing voice He said “go to sleep Stacie. Tomorrow is a big day.”
“BUT DAD!” I said. “I can’t sleep. I’m too scared of the monster under my bed.”
“What monster?” He asked.
I pointed to the wall where the shadow was only moments before.
He chuckled. That knowing, gracious, patient laugh. I have heard it often. Then He knelt down under my bed. A moment later, He stood next to my bed holding the smallest, gentlest mouse I have ever seen.
“That’s not a monster at all. It is just Gus Gus. (Have y’all seen Cinderella? Cutest mouse ever.) It only looked like a monster because of the light coming from under your door. It is all a matter of perspective.”
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About a week ago, God showed me that I was treating going home, back to America, like that shadow on the wall and the monster hiding under my bed. Going home, month 12, re-entry, all things we discuss on a regular basis. I mean we have been talking about it since training camp for crying out loud.
But instead of letting all the advice, all the discussions and all the best intentions help me, I found them actually hindering me.
I was ready to go home, just to get the “going home” over with.
It is a regular thing to talk about going home. It is regular and to a certain extent healthy. Some even refer to it as “the real world.” I, however, don’t generally enjoy these conversations. Sure, I join in. Because, yes I do crave the presence of my best friend, Mollie and my family and my Sweet Angel Madison. Yes, I do look forward to sleeping for a few days straight. And Chick-Fil-A is going to be the bomb diggity.
But my mouth sometimes betrays my heart and what may seem cool, calm and collected is actually a cover for straight up terror. Because the truth is:
I have loved every single hot, sweaty, dirty, challenging, heart breaking, humbling, poop-filled, laughter inducing, tear-jerking, rice and bean eating moment this year has had to offer and if I had it my way, I would just stick around and do this for another 11 months, maybe forever (minus the rules-I would like to marry eventually). This is my real world.
I have given my entire heart and the work of my hands to whatever God has set before me. That’s not to toot my horn. I have no horn to toot. It is all for His glory. I can say with certainty God is my sustainer, my rock, my friend and my Savior. I wouldn’t make it through any day without Him.
So even though I love my family and my friends in America, I was really dreading going home. So much so that I had started to fear it. And not just fear but a crippling fear. I did not want to go home. I fear neat perfectly landscaped neighborhoods and squeaky clean children who are only happy if they have the latest gadget. I fear ridiculous buffets and Wal-Mart and comfort. I am terrified of swinging open the door of my walk in closet and feeling satisfied because of my vast array of wardrobe choices. I fear being okay with spending $20 on a meal. I fear being miserable and feeling completely alone amidst a crowd of people.
But fear is not from God. He has not given me a spirit of fear. So as I was praying last week during worship, asking God to take away my fear, I received the sweetest peace and God lovingly showed me the lie of this fear.
I don’t have to fear going home. Yes it will be different than my last 11 months. But for once this year, I will be returning to a place I already know. I lived there for 26 years. I have left pieces of my heart scattered all over the world. And I might not ever get the chance to collect them again. So maybe I will need to grieve this chapter closing. That’s okay. And yes, the adventure might be different, but the adventure is far from over. In fact, it is only just beginning. It’s just like the lie of the boogie man or the monsters under the bed. It feels so real.
Until you turn on the Light.
