I remember hearing them talk about transitioning back to
America way back in training camp.
Up through London I didn’t really think going home would be difficult in
any way. It’s natural to miss the
family, friends, and comforts of home, so why would anyone find it difficult to
return? That must be for those
over-emotional types who have more feelings than they know what to do with.
Currently I’m in Brasov, Romania scouting for new contacts
to partner with future World Race squads.
Brasov is a gorgeous mountain town/city with a very European feel to
it. Earlier tonight, Dan and I sat
in an Irish Pub at the foot of the mountain, eating pizza and talking about
variou
s things: the last 9 months, returning home, girls, the economy, etc. We’ve talked a ton this year about
going back home, but tonight it was a bit different. The conversation, for the first time, had a different tone
to it. Going home was no longer
the light at the end of the tunnel, but rather it felt more like a deadline,
and a fast approaching one at that.
When we got back from dinner my brother was online. If anyone knows about readjusting to
being home it would be Luke. We
talked a little about the similarities and differences of being gone for a
year, one in a physical war and the other in a spiritual one. He offered some insight and ended with
“just keep in mind that people won’t understand [what you’ve
experienced]”. I’ve tried my best
to keep in touch with friends and family these last 9 months, to tell them what
I’m doing and what I’m learning. To
keep them involved with my life. And
for those that I haven’t done as good of a job with I’ve posted blogs, hoping
to share a bit of my life. But it
feels like such a very small piece.
A few days ago we were in Bucharest. Sending out
last-minute emails, we we
re 10 minutes away from needing to leave to catch our
train to Constanta; Dan hadn’t begun to pack and I was only partially
packed. We frantically threw
everything into our bags, got to the train on time, and 3 hours later we were
picked up by a complete stranger whose house we were staying in for the next
two nights. And the entire thing
felt normal. Two days later we
were on another train headed to Brasov where I met a guy from Spain whose uncle
went to Virginia Tech. We happened
to be staying in the same hostel, a hostel that was full of a group of students
from a Spanish journalism college.
We were the only Americans there, and the entire thing felt normal.
For much of this past year I’ve wondered what I would do
when I got home; what my job would be, where I would live, etc. I thought it was ridiculous to think
that going home in itself would be an issue to consider. But now I’m starting to wonder what
going back to “normal” is going to feel like. Am I worried or nervous? Maybe a little, but I know that I’ll be who, do what, and go
where God wants me.
Feels weird to only have 2 months left…
