This was not just a trip. By calling the past 9 months of my life a trip it dimishes everything that has been. I didn’t just visit 4 countries, I lived in them. I made connections with locals, laid roots and called each place my home. Saying goodbye was harder than saying goodbye to you because I know that I may never see them again and I’ll be coming home to you within the same year.
I know this may seem a little harsh and yes it’s hard to hear. It’s hard to say. But I’m coming home different. The past 9 months feels like 9 years and there’s no way I’ll be able to explain to you all that has happened to me. I’ll try my best but if I struggle to answer your questions it’s probably because my brain is too full to function.
I’ve been adapting to new places every couple months or so and yes I’ve gotten pretty good at it. But moving around like I have doesn’t leave much space to process. A lot of my year is locked away in brain boxes that I have to find, dust off and sort through.
I also have yet to adapt to the most challenging place of all. Home. Yes I’m so excited to see you. But I’ve been living with the same 43 people for 9 months. They know me inside and out. I haven’t been fully alone since I set foot in Atlanta, Georgia. I haven’t had access to the constant stimulations of wifi or greasy western foods.
I will get overwhelmed. And it’s not your fault. I’ll just need to take it slow and figure out where I fit.
Moving to a new place gives space for wonder and mystery and new beginnings. But coming home feels filled with expectations. I know you’ll still love me even though I’ve changed but I’m still so scared to disappoint you. To not be who you want me to be.
I don’t have a plan anymore. There are dreams I have for my future but they no longer include a stable 9-5 job in a cozy suburb. My future seems to be a little more unknown than known. A little more follow God’s next direction than map my own route.
The truth is I don’t want to fit into the catagory of normal anymore. Because I’ve experienced how much more there is. But I really do want you to be a part of it. I assume if you’ve loved me this far into my crazy journey you won’t give up any time soon. I hope I’m right in assuming this. Because I fully believe there’s more out there for you too.
I have 20 days left where I get to say I live in Africa. 20 days where every moment of my life gets to be in full pursuit and focus on the Lord with absolutely no distractions. I only have 20 days to grieve the end of a season, the loss of my friendships here, and brace myself for whatever is next.
I’m really going to miss the people I’ve met. They’ve become my family. So if I’m sad sometimes, it’s not because I’m not happy to see you. It’s because there are dear friends that I may never get to see again. That you may never get to meet.
Oh how I wish all of my worlds could collide and you could all know each other. But I guess I’ll have to leave that to heaven. Sometimes it will be hard for me to have nice things or visit your big beautiful homes. Because the others who are so dear to me across the ocean live in cramped tin rooms with their entire families.
I don’t want you to feel bad for them because they’re just as happy as you are. They are all smart, kind, beautiful people. Just as special to me as you. They all know your names and love to hear all my stories about you. They smile when I talk about you almost as if they knew you. I hope one day it will be the same for you when you hear about them.
I know you’ll never fully understand certain things I do or reasons I’ve changed. I don’t expect you to. I promise I’ll be as patient as I can and try not to talk about it all too much. If I do, I hope you take it as a compliment knowing that you are a safe enough place for me to process all thats happened. Kind of like a fresh journal.
I miss you lots and I’m so excited to see you again. I can’t wait to hear all that’s happened to you and share with you about my life. But know that this wasn’t just a trip. It was the beginning of a beautiful new life brought to you by Jesus.
