Once home I dove into life.
The further I sank into my everyday responsibilities the safer I felt.
When people would ask me or Justin we we came home I was the quickest to answer…
"We just felt like God was calling us back to Jacksonville!"
A cop-out answer but an answer no one would argue with.
Six months went by and with each turn of the calendar I felt safer and safer. In enough time no one would eve remember what had happened.
April was ending and so I started looked for the sense of safety to grow thicker around me.
One more month home. One more month safer.
But it was nowhere to be found. My false sense of security had slipped through my fingers.
The end of April grew dark.
I woke up in the mornings and regret filled my stomach.
Several times a day at work I would steal away to a bathroom stall and cry.
I was vulnerable.
All I wanted was to be back on the World Race.
Where I lived free and I loved deeply and I worshipped unaware of the world around me.
It was like I had finally woken up and realized where I was and even more so where I wasn't.
I cried myself to sleep every night. I was finally mourning leaving the race.
I was incomplete.
I was broken.
