Now, 11 months later, home is all I want.
And with me coming home so very soon,
I want to share a few things from my heart to yours
that might be helpful for the both of us.
I am not unreachable. Before the race, I had never been out of the country. I didn’t even know what international airplanes looked like. When I would meet someone who had traveled, I instantly felt a distance between us. ‘Oh you’ve been to Greece and seen all there is to see,’ I would think. I felt that ‘these people,’ the traveled, smart, blessed people, were better than me, unreachable to me. They had done something I longed to, and they had that on me. I want you to know that this is not the case. This is rubbish. Yes I have traveled the world and experienced different cultures. I have learned and grown and been humbled. But we are all people. There is no better, there is just us. Please do not see me as someone different. But someone just like you. We can still laugh and become friends and share the experiences that life has given us.
I have changed. No one goes 11 months of their life without changing. I have lived in a bedroom with 6 or more girls every month. I have learned what healthy communication looks like. I’ve become more brave and honest with myself. My community, my church has impacted me. My perspective of how I see the world and the people in it has shifted. I have grown accustomed to change and being flexible is my new forte. I have learned what my worth is, and how important it is to live that out fully. I am not the same person who left 11 months ago.
Just as I’ve changed, so have you. I want to know these things. Share your life with me. Share your stories, your sorrows, your words. Let me back into your life again, because I’ve missed it. Yes, I had a crazy experience around the world, but so did you. Don’t discount your life and the worth it has. You and the world have done things this year that I haven’t heard about. Please tell me.
I’ve missed you and home more than I could ever tell you. You’ve been heavy on my heart month after month. When I left, I thought that I loved change. And now, I’ve learned how much I love consistency. And you’re a part of that. I’ve physically felt your absence, and the love I have in my heart for you. I’m sorry it took me traveling the world to fully feel that. I’ve brought you presents and little things that made me think of you along the way. I really can’t thank you for going on this journey with me. Just as I have traveled and combated the wifi gremlin, so have you. You’ve patiently waited on the other line for the connection to smooth over. You’ve loved me through and beyond what I could ever ask. I owe my year to you, home.
I’m going to need you. I’m going to need movie nights and dinner dates. I’m going to need concerts and phone calls. I’m going to need ice cream and belly laughs and familiar faces. And to feel wanted again. I’m going to need your help making my life again. Everyone says coming home is the hardest. There’s pain and processing and confusion you’ll go through. Some days I’ll need you to be there. Some days I’ll want to just sit in my hammock alone, because that feels normal now. Some days I’ll only talk to God. I’m asking you now to have grace and understanding with me as we figure this out together.
I am going to miss a lot of things. I’ve adjusted to my new life. There are going to be hard days where I miss it. You might not be able to understand, but I want to help you try. I have learned to eat what’s given to you, even if you have no idea what it is. To throw toilet paper in the trash can and sometimes, often times, use the bathroom in the woods. To get in the car with no idea of where we’re going. I’m going to miss my spontaneous days and adventures with my friends I’ve made here. Jumping on the top of the bus in Nepal, just to hang onto the handle bars up the mountain. Let’s go on adventures together. Say yes with me. I’ll miss travel days with my squad and feeling like family. I’m going to miss these people that feel like a new home to me. The comfort and wisdom and joy they bring into my life. These have become my people.
I’m going to say things that don’t make sense. Please ask me to explain. I loved learning languages in other countries, and even have some songs memorized. I might just start singing an African tune, and get a little sad when someone doesn’t join in. I’m going to want to talk about my abuela Brenarda in Chile, or my best friend Thu in Vietnam. I might say something in World Racey terms that means nothing to you. Please be patient with me as I reminisce and relive my life. But also tell me when you just want me to be present. Tell me when you want to just make new memories and be at home together.
Please ask me about my life. Ask me specific questions. Summing up a year is difficult, let alone 11 different countries. Ask me exactly what you want to know. And when you ask, please listen. I want to share about my experiences, but above all I want to be listened to. Show me you care. I know it’s hard to feel like you’re IN a story you weren’t at. But be in it with me, for me. Realize that this was not just a trip, this really was, and still is my life. Isn’t every day we’re alive just another day we’re living?
This year hasn’t been all butterflies and butter cookies. Traveling is hard. It’s exhausting. And if I’m honest, I’m tired. All I want to do is lay in my bed. The one that I call mine. Do not chalk this year up to something that sounds glorified and glittery. There were hard days. Days I didn’t want to do this anymore, and I just wanted to come home. Days where I lived in a house of 20 women and had no space of my own. Days I couldn’t understand a word people said, or what they wanted me to do. There were days I traveled on bus for 30 hours, dehydrated, tired, and hungry. Days that I cried because my heart yearned for you. Recognize that as beautiful as this experience was, it was just as challenging.
I have traveled the world, but I do not have everything figured out. Want to know what I’m doing when I get home? Good question. So do I. 11 months of traveling does not fix you. It does not reveal to you all of the secrets of life. I did not come to find myself, I am myself. Yes, I have learned. Yes I have grown. But I am still 23 years old. I am broken and silly and confused, just like most of life. And I still will be, probably until I die. I don’t know what I’m doing for the rest of my life, I don’t know where in the world my husband is, I’ve barely solved 2+2. So I’m coming home to you. I’m coming home to breathe and live with my Mom. Woo! Big crazy plans. Oh, and I don’t have a job. Double woo! Woo woo! But I know that just as God directed this journey, He’ll direct my next one. And yours too.
I will never live my life the same way again. Jesus has shown me the fullness that life can have. Relationships, dreams, me, you. The importance of trying, of really trying with everything you have. The importance of giving people a chance, and giving people your heart. The importance of life’s simplicities, like a washer and a dryer, or a kitchen that’s yours. I have learned that if God is leading you somewhere, He will make a path. I’ve learned the importance of honesty and processing and faith. The importance of telling people exactly what you need, and not wasting a moment. And I am forever changed. I’m not going to follow the American Dream, but, you probably already figured that out. I now know in my heart the importance of Jesus, of people, and of really living.
So I’ll see you soon then, on the other side of the equator.
One that feels a little more familiar.
I’m almost there,
I love you around the world and back,
Al
