August 1, 2014. In 83 days, I’m coming home.
In 83 days, I will set foot on American soil for the first time in 11 months. It will be exciting. It will be overwhelming.
Imagine not understanding the language, culture, writing, and even body language in a different country. Imagine doing that over and over again for 11 months. Just when you begin to learn basic phrases, tips about how to navigate this foreign culture, and start to feel comfortable, you leave to start all over again in a new country. Imagine that becoming your new normal.
Then imagine coming back to your own culture, your own language. No more trying to communicate through a combination of pidgin English and charades. No more relying on pictures and luck to order food. Suddenly you can understand everything. But yet, you’ve changed. The culture and the language may be the same, but you feel like you don’t quite fit in anymore. You’ve had all these experiences, mishaps, celebrations, new friends, sorrows, joys, hard times, and exhilarating adventures. You’ve seen God move in mighty ways through your inadequacy. Then you step off a plane where everything is familiar again, yet nothing is.
In 83 days, I will see my family again. It will be exciting. It will be overwhelming.
Imagine saying goodbye to your family, knowing you won’t see them again for 11 months (minus a short few days of the Parent Vision Trip). Imagine missing them like crazy, trying not to feel homesick as you miss their laughter, their inside jokes, their annoying habits. Imagine celebrating holidays and birthdays on the other side of the world, missing all the little traditions your family life was shaped by. But imagine a group of 40-something strangers becoming your family. Imagine spending EVERY. SINGLE. MOMENT with these people. Imagine crying with them, laughing with them, forming inside jokes, finding all new ways you can be annoyed. Imagine forming new traditions with them around holidays and birthdays. Imagine encouraging each other, worshipping together, challenging each other. Imagine hearing their stories, every single detail, and then becoming part of them. Imagine not being able to imagine life without them.
Then imagine stepping off the plane in your country, and turning around to your squad, your family, and saying goodbye. Imagine hugging them before they walk off to another gate to fly home to their state. Some of these people have become lifelong friends who you know you’ll see frequently, despite the distance. Some of these people you may see a few more times in your life. Some you may not ever see again this side of heaven. You may be going home to your family by blood, but the family of your heart is separating before your very eyes. How do you say those goodbyes? How do you even begin to process something like the World Race? What happens after 11 months?
As I begin to think about these questions, I ask for your patience and understanding. I’m making the most of my time left on the Race, and I’m still loving every minute! I know this is exactly where God wants me, and I know He wants me to come home in 83 days. But I cannot deny that the transition is going to be extremely hard. For this reason, I will not be having a large welcome party at the airport. Only my parents and siblings will be there. For my mental and emotional health, I will be MIA for at least a week after I return to the States. I cannot wait to share with all of you about the Race, about the fun memories, about the heartbreaks, about the different countries and cultures, and about what God did in the day-to-day. But I will need some time to process at the beginning of the transition. My faithful supporters, I love all of you, and I will covet your prayers when this time comes. And I will look forward to personally sharing my journey with you starting the second week of August! As always, thank you so much for your support!
X
