As I receive message after message from family and friends begging for another blog post, nothing crosses my mind except my lack of confidence in why I’m here and my longing to just go home.
“You really think you’re going to make it 11 months being away from home?”
If only I had a dollar for every time I was asked this the weeks leading up to my launch date.
My answer was always the same:
“Absolutely. There is no doubt in my mind.”
Pre-WR Erin was so confident in this answer. Completely confident.
Current Erin has been longing for home, missing family, constantly going through old pictures, and even looking at prices for a one-way ticket back to her Ol’ Kentucky Home.
And now with the recent terrorist attacks, I just have one more reason to hop on that plane.
EIGHT MORE MONTHS of this.
Now I have begun asking myself, “Will I make it this long away from home?!”
But, you see, that’s what the enemy does. He makes you begin to question the decisions you were once so confident in. He sees the amazing work you are doing, the progress you are making, the people you are helping – and he doesn’t like it at all.
April 1, 2016. The day I left my tear-filled parents at the airport security gate, I sent them this text message:
“I love you both so much. That was a lot harder than expected. Just know that my abandonment, loneliness, and sadness isn’t starting now… It’s been around for the last two years. I’m looking to God to show me exactly how HE wants to use me because if there is anything that I do know, it’s that praising Him, worshipping Him, learning more about Him, and telling others about Him are the only places that I have found complete happiness. This is a good thing. This is a really good thing. I know it, because He’s told me. He’s given me peace and comfort.”
I remember texting this to them. I remember having such confidence in this message – having such confidence in my decision to do the race. I remember my excitement when meeting my teammates. I remember my anxiousness riding the ferry to our very first ministry month. I remember feeling my chest tighten as they brought the first abandoned newborn into the Moroccan orphanage. I remember my tears falling as I listened to a refugee woman tell me the story of her husband being murdered by the Taliban. I remember walking the deserted streets of Istanbul the day of the first bombing as the Turks mourned another attack on their city.
So, why am I losing confidence in why I am here? I am continuously reminded.
I am right where I need to be.
I may miss Kentucky, but it doesn’t mean I don’t absolutely love the city God currently has me in.
A city where we have been able to serve alongside a group of amazing Americans that have devoted not just a month to these people, but years.
A city where we had the opportunity of finishing construction projects and adding the final touches to a new Coffee Haus in a beautiful little refugee community. A cafe that was built on so much love and will host many long term and short term missionaries in the future. Most importantly, it will allow for so many opportunities of telling others the Good News.
A city where we serve over 500 refugees weekly. We carry 500+ boxes of food up stairs and into a small room, where we later distribute it to families who depend on it. We offer medical attention and medication to the refugees battling illnesses and disease. We color with the children as their parents go room to room collecting everything they need.
A city that is extremely hospitable- free pastries from the bakery beneath our apartment, waiters sneaking the restaurant’s BBQ bottle in our backpacks (because it’s the only place we’ve found the sauce that makes us think of home), or the neighbors from above lowering down a homemade cherry pie on a make-shift pulley system.
The people here love us so well.
Why have I allowed the enemy to grab hold of my confidence?
Why have I allowed myself to doubt my purpose for being here?
I am here to love this city.
I am here to love the long-term workers.
I am here to love the refugees.
I am here to love the people of Ankara, Turkey.
As bad as I miss:
shopping dates with my momma, being at the driving range with my daddy, Sunday mornings at Crossland, holiday celebrations, Wednesday nights with my youth girls, adventures with Lindsay, and backroads with Allie & Taylor,
I’ve realized that isn’t home for me anymore, at least not for the next 8 months.
Home is not a place.
Home is where your heart is-
and for the next 8 months I’m devoting my heart to the people in the 10/40 window.
I am not allowing the enemy to use my homesickness or doubtfulness any longer.
I signed up for this. I confidently signed up for this.
