Two months. Two months stateside, and I finally feel about as settled as I did after two days in a new country. Remember the last blog I posted from the field? (if you don’t, read it here) The one anticipating the difficulty and discomfort of leaving the Race and re-entering “normal” life? The one predicting messy re-entry, but in neatly crafted words? Well, my predictions certainly weren’t wrong, but I certainly didn’t grasp the depth of the difficulty, discomfort, and mess that I was about to throw myself into.
Two months stateside, and the “normal” life is finally underway. The nomad life is coming to a close as I step into business casual clothes and a real-live job where I wash my hands more in a day than I did in a month on the race (thanks, American hospitals for having sanitary standards) and come home to my own rented home that I rent. The two months it’s taken me to get “settled” fall into the lovely category of “I Didn’t Know Life Could Get Harder Than It Was For Me In Cambodia, Botswana, Middle School, etc., But Then It Did.” I don’t know where my re-entry experience falls on a normal bell curve measuring level of difficulty, but I do know that even though I expected it to challenge me, it’s challenged me more than I could have imagined.
I’ve often not handled this transition well. I’ve let anxiety take control like I never did on the race. I’ve been selfish, angry, and self-absorbed at times. I’ve been too proud to ask for help and I’ve expected others to do what they ought not do. I’ve also been far too hard on myself. This sometimes sends me into the cycle of being hard on myself for being too hard on myself which is just about as fun as the time I went crazy in my consumption of rich and “American” Christmas dinner and cookies after eating nshima for a month (seemed like a good idea at the time, realized later it was a very horrible idea).
After wobbling my way through the first two months back on American soil I’ve reflected on how to walk more confidently moving forward and what to do to make my next transition, whenever that comes, a bit less painful, and also just to live life more fully. The list is pretty fab if I do say so myself, but it all comes down to only two things: grace and love.
Grace. “Give yourself grace,” I thought over and over and over and over again, with no greater ability to conjure up grace for myself no matter how hard I tried. Here’s the thing. “Give yourself grace,” doesn’t really work because grace isn’t mine, or yours, to give. “My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness,” says the Lord of this whole freaking universe. We, unimaginably tiny yet inexplicably mighty beings created by the aforementioned Lord of the whole freaking universe, are only made to receive this grace – to receive it so fully that it flows uninhibited to those around us; to receive it so fully that it sinks into each tendon and ligament that holds us together and is forever bound to each atom of carbon in our very bones; to receive it so fully that extending it and being an ambassador of it to others and ourselves is second nature.
Here’s another thing I’m learning about grace: sometimes it’s not really grace I need, but a couple deep breaths and a second to remind myself that I am not a burden. I’ve often found myself apologizing profusely for things that didn’t really wrong anyone. I am not entitled to anything simply because life got weird and hard all of a sudden, but I am also not a burden for it, needing to apologize for my circumstance and existence. If you’ve been home for a week or two months, hear this loud and clear: for those who really love you, you are not a burden; not for having a hard time, not for missing your friends who carried you through your race, or for needing to leave the party early because too many people are speaking english; not for having new beliefs or new questions, needing help, or needing space to process. You are not a burden. We were not made to live by a self-crafted standard of perfection which for me looks like never disappointing anyone or ever being an inconvenience, and has me begging for grace every other minute. We instead were made to live by the standard of perfect love that casts out fear, covers the worst mess-ups, and seeks to understand deeply.
Love. We were made to live for it and from it, to breathe it and to be it, but I keep forgetting that. I’ve got a whole lot to learn and even more practicing to do, but I’m trying to remind myself that even when it feels as if I need all of the love in the world and have none to give, I can indeed give. Because, like grace, love is not something I’m expected to conjure up on my own. Receive it, pass it on. That’s all. There is never a shortage of love to be had or given so long as I’m going to the source. I’m learning about loving myself, too. I’m seeing just how un-selfish it is, and honestly, how destructive I can be when I’m not loving myself. I’m remembering how fiercely I learned to love those around me while I was gone and that loving myself is not the same as #treatyoself because true love asks us to do the things we don’t really want to because they’re best. It also tells us to rest, to stop running from the hard things, and to keep on giving love. Because whether it’s received or given, it’s love – real love – moving through us that heals.
As I continue out of the journey of the Race and into this current season, one in which I hold closely the love for journeying and growing in truth and abundant life all along the way, I’m brought to actual, real live tears at how loved and supported I’ve been by so many along the way. So again, thank you. Thank you for being a vital part of the work done in and through me. Thank you for allowing me into your lives as I’ve shared stories and lessons along the way. And thank you for your continued prayers and support as I continue to find my feet and grow deep roots where I’ve been planted.
