Dear Home (Greenville, LV, 413 Greensboro, the YL basement, MSU, Covenant Presbyterian Church, The Orchard Starkville, 929 coffee, River City Rehab [the buckshot sports palace], + all the places in-between),
This past year has consisted of days full of memories of you flooding my mind, and days where I was too busy to think of you at all. There have been moments of deep longing, moments of apprehension, moments of daydreaming of home, moments of so much excitement, and moments of fear. Saying goodbye to you was a decision that was hard, but equally thrilling- knowing that in 11 months I would get to return to the people and places I love the most. Back then- 11 months seemed like a rather long time, now- days away from greeting you again, I cannot seem to find out to describe how the days escaped me so quickly. But, I also cannot find the words to describe how the days were also so long and full of learning, growing, hardship, excitement, adventure, newness, mess, exhaustion, and trials. And here we are, with this whirlwind of a time ending in only a few short days.
This past year has given me a chance to realize so many things- and one being the love I have for you- my home; my people, my places, my communities, my family. More than ever before, I am grasping the blessing of my home. I’ve learned from missing you, how desperately irreplaceable you are. Even with 11 months away, I know that I still can’t fully comprehend the gift of having you as my own.
Thank you thank you thank you- for standing by my side, supporting me, praying for me, Facetiming me, messaging me when the smallest things remind you of me, responding to my random photos/messages when the time difference is unreal, for reading my blogs (I cannot tell you how excited I am to share my life with you in person rather than through words on a screen), for the handwritten letters written months before the stated opening date, for the pictures you printed so that I could carry a piece of home with me, and for loving me across oceans and continents.
It has truly been you- my home, the ones who I left behind 11 months ago, who have made this year possible and who have been my ultimate reinforcement when I felt like I was not enough.
So, what I am really trying to say, is this journey has you, my home, to thank. Thank you for being a part of it, thank you for making it my reality, and thank you for the encouragement when it was needed most.
But, as I am preparing to come back home, I also want to share with you the fears that I am carrying. We have thrown around the word “re-entrance” a lot lately- and yikes it just feels weird to think that a word so heavy (maybe this is only heavy to me-idk? Either way, I feel like it’s dramatic but applicable) is connected to HOME. The reality is the TOTALLY cliché phrase “home is where your heart is” has been my worst nightmare in trying to figure out what coming back home will look like. This year I’ve left pieces of my heart everywhere, and in reality, not all of me is coming home. (that also sounds dramatic. Oh well) But I cannot be more thankful to have the opportunity to give away little bits of me in more places. I feel like maybe if I had to write another letter to “home” it would include more than the handful of places that I addressed this one to. Miriam Adeney says, “You will never be completely at home again because part of your heart will be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.”
I would pay the price a million times over for the Montessori in Chile, for the laughter shared on a $12 van ride up mountains in Peru, for the nights of hanging in a hammock on a boat in the Peruvian/Colombian Amazon, for the chance to look the lost in the eyes and say, “you matter” on an overcrowded street of drug addicts/homeless in Colombia, for all of the “I’m taking my tea now!!!” announcements + card games with my “African brothers” in Rwanda, for the Christmas celebrated with South Sudanese refugees in Uganda, for the chance to feed street kids on the beaches of Mombasa, Kenya, for the countless hours crushing cans and cleaning a hostel alongside my Muslim friends in Malaysia, for the time spent with my parents and my friend’s parents in Thailand, for the 5:45 am walks on dirt roads and midnight karaoke in Cambodia, for the travel and adventure and friends up the entire country of Vietnam, and for the sweet one on one English lessons with the Wycliffe staff in North Sulawesi, Indonesia. These + a million other moments with what feels like a million other people all hold a piece of me. But I will also carry pieces of these places and these people with me back to the states- and that thought is both thrilling and scary. Sweet and sad. Something to rejoice over and something I will have to grieve.
While I cannot wait to greet my family/friends/friends that are family stateside, I am also about to say goodbye to my family of 24- my squadmates, my teammates, my leaders. The people who have, over the past 11 months shaped me, taught me, encouraged me, sat with me, sang with me, cried with me, danced with me, and who have scouted every city for good Mexican food with me (thank you SBG). These are the people who have become part of who I am.
The thought of letting go of this life full of new places weekly/monthly, bucket showers, markets, broken English/charades, constant community (shared space, beds, and basically everything we own), card games + books as a main source of entertainment, 2 backpacks full of everything I own, carrying water in jerry cans atop our heads, clothes that never seem to be that clean, all the bugs + mice, simplicity, braided hair + braiding hair, sweating, shared meals, painting and creating, for all the “what are the odds,” talking to strangers openly, taking photos with strangers (LOLLL at the amount of times we are asked to take photos with people, its bizarre), talking about EVERYTHING openly, packing cubes, eradication of silence (loud music, car horns, karaoke outside of your window), for the 6-sometimes 30 hour bus rides- for travel days in general, for the nights crowded around a laptop screen watching movies- or afternoons accompanied by Rachel, Monica, Phoebe, Chandler, Ross, and Joey (Rachel, I love your love for friends), endless opportunities to explore, eating for $5 or less (most of the time- less) a day, mornings with coffee made from an aeropress and probably eggs or french toast, dance parties to music you cannot understand one word of, alllllll of the Asian holidays, having a constant “airdrop party,” accidently matching at least one of my teammates daily, participating in an ongoing discussion on what we have learned from John Mark Comer lately (shameless plug-look the guy up-bridgetown audio podcast), raising a hallelujah at every worship session (thank you Bethel), freaking out every time there is a couch that isn’t deceptively HARD, 9:00 pm bed times, .. okay I could go on and on. But the point is, the thought of letting it all go- is scary.
I keep telling people the best way I can describe my emotions is to compare them to a pinball in a pinball machine- ALL OVER THE PLACE. (you are probably thinking “obviously” to yourself after reading all of this-lol)
So, with all of the excitement to come HOME and to share pieces of my last 11 homes with you comes anticipation, fear, and apprehension. I want to come and fully embrace each of you, but it is going to be hard. I want to ask for grace and patience. I want to ask for the warm welcome that ONLY Mississippi knows how to give. I want to ask for you to tell me ALL about your year as I tell you about mine. I want to know all about your newest favorite artist, your new job, your new house, all the awkward run-ins you’ve had, all the new friends you’ve made, the hardships you’ve bared, that weird professor you had, the failures and the wins. I want you to be just as much a part of my transition home as you have been on this journey with me over these past 11 months.
I cannot wait to see you again!
Soon,
Abigail
