Home is literally coming at me so quickly I feel like an amateur race car driver spinning my wheels while Dale Jr zips on past. The reality that this journey God's used to break my heart, tear me apart and transform me into something new, is ending.
And I feel like a helpless bystander as I watch it finally, finally skid to a stop.
I thought I would be more jubilant. I thought knowing I was finally in the month of July would make me do a cartwheel. And I’ll admit, I’ve been doing lots of cartwheels lately. But knowing that in 28 days I’ll be in America makes me want to run into these wild mountains looming over my house and hide amongst them. Along with all the Rastas who smoke joints and tell me how sweet life is as a mountain crawler.
I’ve been a little irritable lately for no reason at all. Really, I have no reason. I suppose I could blame it on pms or being tired and maybe I should give myself some grace since I have been backpacking for nearly 11 months but a part of me is ticked that I’m mad. I’m mad because I’m sad. I’m sad because this has been the hardest and best year of my life and quite simply, I don’t think I want it to end.
But don’t all good things eventually come to an end?
The next season of my life is going to be nuts. It’s going to be fun and filled with laughter and hard work. I’ll write more about it soon, but for now, I want to savor every moment that I’m out here. I want to laugh as Noah gets yet more food stuck in that mass of hair that hangs from his face named Beardsley. I wanna joke with Jason as he yells Possum for no apparent reason and everyone looks at him cluelessly, then bursts out laughing. And I wanna love my strangers that became my friends that are now my family—Sweet Aroma.
Some days we live for tomorrow as if our last breath depended on it. We think the grass is greener or something cliché like that and end up spending so much time caught up in a daydream that isn’t reality and we miss the here and now and possibly a chance to spread some of that delicious Kingdom we speak so highly of.
I was in a taxi the other day after we’d missed the final train, trying to figure out how to stay safe in an unsafe city and finagle a way home. I was preoccupied, lost in my own world of a grumbling stomach and plans that didn’t quite pan out. I offhandedly mentioned to our driver that we were traveling around the world telling people about Jesus.
The driver wasn’t impressed.
I think he rolled his eyes and he let out an exasperated sigh. He told me he couldn’t believe I was just now telling him. He was floored I waited until we were 20 minutes into this cab drive/new friendship to reveal that I loved Jesus. What if I’d died, he asked? What if you never told me about this Jesus.
I was stunned. I didn’t know what to say. I can’t really remember what I said back but we ended on a better note. Honestly though, he asks a good question.
Why wait?
Why not attach an urgency to the truth we know? There’s not a schedule or timeline that says share your faith now.
There’s no referee hollerin’ ready, set, yell truth.
I think if anything, being who we are, representing Him, allowing the Big Man to speak through us, to be His hands and feet, wherever we are, now that’s the real deal. That's what I'm bringing home with me. Lesson after lesson after lesson of life. I'm bringing home life from a different perspective I guess.
And yet I’m scared. What if I get home and forget how to be a human? You’re probably laughing as hard as I am at that question, but it’s legit. What if it’s hard at home? I’m not worried if people think I’m weird—I’ve always been a little quirky but what if I can’t remember simple things like where the grocery store is or worse, what if I pee outside because it feels more natural?
There’s money and power and a whole lot of distractions.And they say going silly places like Wal-Mart in a car, by yourself is super overwhelming.
But here’s the thing, I’m pretty head over heels in love right now with this Guy named Jesus.
And so I’ve been discussing these worries with Him. And ya know He was onto something when He said perfect love casts out all fear. Because the more that I dwell and savor the fact that He loves me—like whoah does He love me—the more that I can rest assured that no matter what happens…no matter if I speak Filipino, Thai and Swahili in the same sentence…no matter if I do funny hand shakes or weird little bows…no matter if I see Doxy and freak out because I never want to take it again…no matter what, He loves me. And when you know your loved, you rest easy.
You stop being mad or sad or scared when you know you’re appreciated for being you. And Jesus has this insanely awesome way of making me feel like I'm the only girl in the room.
He's sweet like that.
So I’m gonna sit on that truth as I ride this month 11 wave back to the NYC coast. I’m gonna ride it on the plane to Knoxville and I’m going to splash into my hometown knowing that if Jesus is on my side, it’s all good in the hood. The Rastas say don’t worry—be happy—they’re always chill. There’s probably something to be learned from realizing, everything’s gonna be alright. So I’ll skip the pot but I am gonna chill out and love loving Jesus as much as He loves loving me.
