The hostel at final debrief had flags from all their visitors. This is our contribution.
It's 1:48 am and we just left the hostel. The Lady Bones just said goodbye to our fearless men, Jo and Jochem. And so we set off, the five of us girls, to San Jose to fly home. On a pitch black charter bus and Hillsong playing on my iPod, I realize I'm surrounded by some of the best friends I've ever had.
When I close my eyes, a movie reel plays scenes of the last 11 months. The lady who couldn't walk, but by the name of Jesus I watched her dance. The man who couldn't stand because the pain was too much, who later stood, walked and laughed with our team- because we called on the name of Jesus. The little girl in South Africa who taught me an important lesson about faith. China… the Philippines, India, Europe… The list goes on. The stories go on.
How am I supposed to feel right now? What am I supposed to be thinking about? They say its a process, but where does this process even begin?
I think about all the missionaries around the world and how they must learn to cope with goodbyes. I've accepted that I will likely never see most of the people I've met again, this side of heaven, but it doesn't change the nausea in my gut.
It's seasons like this that cause a girl to realize how fleeting this life is. How unstable, insecure, temporary.
We left home for discomfort and the unknown, only to find comfort in the instability of this life and life with one another.
We've become family and discovered a foundation there.
The draft from the open window in front of me is both refreshing and breath taking. It brings relief from the humid Costa Rican air. It blows through my hair, I lean back, close my eyes, and for a moment I am but another world racer beginning her journey home.
