Day 1: Arrival 4 pm (Legazpi City, Philipinnes)
After nearly 48 hours of traveling, I was so ready to be here. I could tell I was out of patience by the time I was on the last of 4 flights. We had boarded the aircraft on time. However, it was then that my quick 45 minute flight lost all of its momentum. We sat at the gate for nearly an hour and a half. Then drove around the airport for 45 minutes more. By the time we actually took off, my stomach was tight with anticipation. To make matters worse, the passenger in front of me kept taking pictures out his airplane window…the entire flight!! [I realize this doesn’t actually make matters worse, but the fact that it did to me (and it really did) was my indicator that all patience was completely gone.]
We landed in Legazpi and a dose of reality hit me like a ton of bricks. I was going to see my kids. This was literally happening. I was in the Philippines again. (The heat being one inescapable reminder.) I was one of the first off the flight which ultimately became the biggest torture of the entire trip.
In “baggage claim”, I was able to get a glance of my welcoming party. It wasn’t just my host family. It was them plus 5 more girls from home!! Naturally, of course, tears were the first thing to follow the realization. There they were: my family. Just as I had remembered them, but different, older, more mature, lovelier than ever. Waiting for my bag for the next 10 minutes competed against my 16 hour flight across the Pacific for “longest time perceived”.
In the end, it was all worth it. The 48 hours of traveling. The 6 months in between visits. The 11 months of ministry that initially brought me to this side of the world to meet this family, this home, this life. All of it was worth it to have 6 of my favorite girls in the whole world almost knock me over with hugs and hellos.
I have never felt so alive when I should have been so dead on my feet from traveling (not to mention the 13 hour time difference). But nothing about my energy level mattered because I was home. A few weeks back, I shared an article on Facebook. It stated that for those of us with a giant case of wanderlust, home is not necessarily a particular place, it’s a feeling. Home transcends geographical boundaries. It’s everywhere and nowhere all at once. It’s not static or stationary; it’s dynamic and fluid. Sometimes the only way to truly find it is to leave it. Sitting out in the front yard, looking up at the house on the hill in front of me, playing hand games and chasing the kids around me, the afternoon breeze cooling us all down and taking with it all my stresses of the last two days.
In that moment, I could say with 100% certainty that, even if just for a brief season, I had found home.
