A week off the race—what does my life look like now?
Ever since I turned the final corner and said my final goodbye to Matti and Ashley, it’s been hard. Being constantly surrounded by people for months can sometimes feel like a burden. To be alone after that was heartbreaking. The silence was deafening. I remember I could hear the sound of my breath so loudly. My mind was numb. Sound was non-existent.
I had a layover in Ethiopia for eight hours and for one and half hours I sat staring at a white wall unable to move. I was in shock. I still am.
I found I was treated differently as a single female traveler than I was a face in a group of American travelers. I had to act differently.
Yes, I was blessed to have three seats to myself so I could finally sleep, but I couldn’t help but wish to give up those seats so they could be filled with P Squad bodies.
Culture shock is real. Too real. On the last leg of my flight, we made a stop in Ireland. I heard some ninos walk on and I perked up. I threw off my eye mask and made myself available for babysitting.
“I’m five and I have an Iphone.”—were the first words this boy said to me. This wrecked me. I couldn’t help but remember all the times ninos looked at our phones in fascination and confusion—and here was this kid: five years old, calling his aunt to tell her he’s going to California, and checking his social media. It’s a good thing he was funny, otherwise I would have been thoroughly disappointed.
As the plane started to make it’s descent into LAX, I peeked out the window and you know what I found? Concrete perfection. It was disgusting. I gagged. Where is color? Where are the metal roofs and the colorful houses and the disorderly streets and the huts?!
When it was time to step onto American soil, I was hesitant. If you can imagine a child dipping their big toe in the pool to find out its way too cold—you can picture how this scenario went for me.
What was common six months ago, has become uncommon to me now. Seatbelts, running (hot) water, toilet paper down the toilet, air conditioning, clear traffic laws, and predictability are all a thing in The States, apparently. Relearning how to live in America has had it’s difficulties, but it’s also had its beautiful moments.
I’m currently living in my college town, re-immersing myself in community, and continuing to seek the Lord.
My heart is healing. Each day brings on new emotions. But God has been so sweet throughout all of this. Whether is been my favorite foods, a comfy place to lay my head at night, an understanding conversation, a job interview, or a laughing baby—He receives all the glory.
I can’t say any piece of this journey has been the slightest bit easy, that is, with the exception of this: each day choosing to lay this down at His feet.
I believe God has called me to missions and I can’t wait to see where He calls me next. I’d like to ask prayer for my healing heart, the grieving process, and my transition back home.
To everyone who supported me, words cannot describe how thankful I am to you. You are a gift from God who supported me, loved me, and walked with me during this beautiful season of life. If anyone has any further questions, I’d love to answer them.
To P Squad, my heart will always reside with you. You have challenged me, pushed me, loved me, cried with me, laughed with me, learned with me, and soared with me. There aren’t earthly words that can do my love for you any justice, so I pray the Lord will supply them to you. I’m praying for you. I can’t wait to see how the Lord works in you. And I’ll be seeing you.
Love,
Reggiee
