Dear Home,
Over the course of this year, there have been days that I’ve thought of you lots, and other days not at all. There have been moments of pure bliss and moments of fear, moments of excitement, and moments of heart-wrenching pain. When I said goodbye to you, 11 months sounded like a lifetime, and in some ways, it has felt like it. But now, knowing I’ll be greeted by you in just a few short days, it seems as if I just blinked and now I’m coming home. This crazy whirlwind of a year is coming to a close and with me coming home, there are some things I need you to know…
I love you.
I have always loved you, but more than ever, I’m hyper-aware of it. I’m so thankful for the perspective that time away from you has given me. I’ve learned from missing you, how desperately irreplaceable you are. I’m sorry that it took me leaving to fully understand that. Thank you for standing by my side, supporting me, praying for me, and loving me across oceans. Thank you for the letters and pictures and bible verses that I carried with me. It’s you, the ones that I left behind, that have been my rock this year. It hasn’t only been my journey; you’ve been a part of it too.
I’m coming back to you again soon. I’m ready to feel the warmth that only you can bring, but I need you to know that although I’m coming home, it’s different now. To you, I’m coming back to the place I belong, but to me, I’m coming back to a place I belong. This year I’ve left pieces of my heart everywhere and not all of me is coming home.
Luke 12:34 says, “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
I have treasured so much of the world this year and my heart is still in those places. Part of my heart will always belong to Julio, my incredible friend, and translator in Nicaragua. Part of my heart will always be with my host family that I can’t wait to go back and visit in Panama. Part of my heart will forever be with Victor, an actual angel sent to us in Indonesia. Part of my heart will always belong to a beautiful orphan girl in Cambodia. Part of my heart will always be with a boy in Vietnam who is growing closer every day to knowing Jesus. Part of my heart will always belong to the orphans suffering from HIV/AIDS in Thailand. And part of my heart will always be with Pastor Douglas in Zimbabwe. My heart is scattered across this world, and I need you to know that’s scary for me.
“You will never be completely at home again because part of your heart will be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place.”
Miriam Adeney
I’m going to need space to grieve.
I’m coming home to you, but remember that I am having to say goodbye to my crazy, dysfunctional family of 20. I have spent this entire year with 20 incredible humans and they are a part of who I am now. They have laughed with me and cried with me, they’ve called me higher when I wasn’t portraying Jesus well, they’ve spoken truth to me, and they’ve loved me more than I ever thought possible. Q squad means more to me than I could have ever anticipated; they are the ones who walked me through things this year that you couldn’t. They have lived stories with me that I didn’t know how to share with you in a blog.
I’m going to need to start telling you these stories. I’m going to need to keep these memories alive. I’m going to need your help.
Ask me questions, but only if you really want to hear the answers. Please don’t ask me how my “trip” was, that would be like me asking you how your year was. This wasn’t a trip; this was my life. It will mean the world to me if you ask me specific questions, but give me the grace to go on a complete tangent. I want to share the people and the places that have stolen my heart with you.
In the same way you want to know about my year, I want to know about yours. I want to hear stories, even if they are simple and silly. I want to know. I’m going to feel distant. I might be at home, but I don’t know what’s changed since I’ve been gone. I don’t know about the new grocery store that opened down the street, or if they closed that small coffee shop I loved. I don’t know if you made new friends or had a weird professor or a coworker with a funny accent this year. I don’t know what videos have gone viral or if dresses were blue or black or whatever.
Tell me things. But also, know that it’s going to overwhelm me at times. Give me space when that happens. Help me get my bearings again. At the same time understand that I’ve gotten really good at adjusting. I’ve gone from culture to culture every month this year, and coming back to the States is no different, except now I have you.
As I’m adjusting, sometimes I’m going to need to cry. Probably at surprising or confusing times for you, and for reasons you don’t understand. I need you to know that in the past 11 months my normal has changed, and trying to fit back into my old life isn’t going to be easy or really even totally possible. It’s going to take time. My normal has become a wardrobe of five shirts and two pairs of pants and my normal includes hand washing those clothes and hanging them in the sun to dry. My normal has become no make-up or hair products. My normal has become slow, or non-existent internet and patient attempts at communication. My normal means that I have grown used to having no electricity or running water for days or weeks at a time.
As crazy as this may seem to you, I’ve grown very attached to my new normal, and it’s going to be hard for me to let it go. I’ve become very fond of not having wi-fi or cell service; it brings me closer to the Lord and those around me. I love the comfort and safety I feel inside whatever place we call home with my teammates. I love not being constantly bombarded with an overwhelming amount of choices when it comes to food and clothes. I’ve even grown adaptable and completely content when there is no water or electricity; it makes life simple. I’ve grown attached to simple.
There will be days that I will need to escape and process and possibly have an emotional breakdown. Encourage me to do this. There will be days that I hate being home. Encourage me to bring those frustrations to the Lord. There will be times that I say something in a random language, or eat with my hands, or play with someone’s kid in a parking lot and get strange looks. Give me grace.
While I’m transitioning, I might get too overwhelmed by grocery stores (or heaven forbid Target) and have to leave. I might say “Oh this reminds of that time in ____,” over and over again and just want to sit and just tell you stories about them. I might want to simply drive and listen to music and not talk. I might want to get Taco Bell at midnight or I might want to spontaneously go on an adventure because this year I have fallen in love with spontaneity. I have fallen in love with following the curious heart that beats wildly in my chest at the thought of adventure.
I want to see you. I want to spend time with you, but please don’t assume I’ll just show up at your door. Ask me to get dinner. Ask me to come over, watch a movie, and hangout. Ask me to go on a walk or run errands. Ask me to be a part of your world. I need help figuring out what our relationship looks like again, and I feel like I’ve missed so much. And I’ve missed YOU so much. At the same time, please understand if it’s too much for me that day and I ask for a rain check. Understand if maybe all I want is to be with my mom, or hang out with my brother and his fiance at his new apartment, or spend the day watching tv with my dad, or even just escape and be alone. Learning healthy boundaries and how to care for my self best is one of the great lessons I’ve learned this year and I plan to continue practicing those things.
The reality is, this year has completely shattered my American Christian worldview. Praise the Lord for that. I have seen things that have broken my heart and changed me forever, things I’ll never be able to unsee. I am no longer blissfully unaware of the world, and I will never be again. I cannot step perfectly back into the life I was living before I left, and I don’t want to. I want my future to be colored with the beauty that can only come from living whimsically with the Lord. I will not pursue the “American Dream.” I will not pursue Western success. My choice to live counter-culturally will be hard for some people, even the most well-intended people who care about me. I’m asking you to trust me as I trust the Lord with my next step. Just as you’ve been supporting me and covering me with your prayers this year, please continue to come alongside me in this way. That is the best way you can love me while I transition.
“And the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”
– 2 Timothy 4:6-7
Thank you for taking the time to read this, you are loving me well. Please continue to pray for our squad as we prepare for re-entry.
See you in 7 days!
All my love, Hannah
