I am home. The home that for 18 years was traffic on I-77 and Cookout after 10pm. Where Walmart is three minutes away, and I don’t need a buddy to go with me. I’d be lying if I said part of me didn’t feel guilty for drinking cold bottled water and watching Law & Order while the rest of my people are 2,500 miles away serving at ministry. I wish I had poetic words to process alongside you all with how it feels to see all I’ve ever known as suddenly foreign. To suddenly feel lost when I’m in a house alone or when english isn’t scarcely found. I don’t have those words to offer you. For now, all I can offer is a mere explanation of what brought me home four weeks early, and a promise to let you in as soon as I myself understand how to compartmentalize all that my heart is feeling.
Malawi, Africa. I got Bilharzia, the parasite found in Lake Malawi. My body reacted poorly to our parasite medication, and I was hospitalized for two nights. Goals in this process were rehydration, nausea control, more rehydration. Fast forward to Ecuador. I was better. Well, better for a gal whose immunity to sickness has been known to let me down a time or two. Month two in Ecuador, symptoms similar to the parasite came back, and I was met with another hospitalization to help with pain and dehydration. Doctors threw several causes around, one being a potential repercussion to the reaction my body went through in Malawi. It was ultimately suggested that if further medical care wasn’t sought, I would only get worse. Yesterday, I found myself in an American doctor’s office for the first time in eight months getting answers and antibiotics I’ve needed for almost four months. I am on the mends, though medicine is aggressive, and my body is tired.
This journey isn’t over until my people are back in the States with me. For now, I will rest and intercede on behalf of my 35 family members that are still running hard toward the finish line. I am overwhelmingly grateful for their love and prayer, and I wish you all could understand the closeness that has come with living in constant community for this long.
It’s hard. It’s weird. Being in a home that feels like it fits a little differently than the homes I’ve found solace in for almost a year. Processing will come and adaptation will follow. I will let you all know when those things seem normal. Thank you for your support. Your kindness. Your consistency. I promise to return those sweet gifts with stories and testimonies of the Lord’s faithfulness.
