Well, I am home.
I have been home for a few weeks now, and even though things are becoming familiar again it’s still weird. I don’t have a better word to describe it than weird. It’s not bad. It’s not good. It’s just weird.
I spent the first week by myself, in silence, in my room, on my bed asking myself and the Lord why things felt so weird. This was where I grew up. Almost everything was the same, beside a few minor things like new painted kitchen, new furniture, room change with my little sister, and the garbage bags being moved to the laundry room. Everything looked like it did when I left. Out of muscle memory I made coffee, grabbed creamer and a bag of grapes. But it wasn’t the same. Almost a full calendar year had passed. The most pivotal season of my life thus far just happened and in a blink of an eye was over. Things are different. And that is okay.
That first week I found myself frustrated and numb. It was a weird combination that would just make me even more frustrated. I would open my bible every morning and struggled to comprehend the words printed on the thin pages. I didn’t know if I should spend time alone or hang out with people. I didn’t know how to answer some questions I was asked because honestly I didn’t even know the answers to them.
I couldn’t find a rhythm.
In Jamaica we were taught a popular Jamaican ice breaker called pass the rhythm. It was simple. Someone started a rhythm. Once they started it they would call out a persons name in the rhythm. The person called out would have to answer back on the spot, but had to keep the rhythm. If they didn’t they were O-U-T out! It took a while for the team to literally get the rhythm, but we finally did. Once we did we were able to play confidently and have fun.
Home has been a lot like that game. It’s something I have never done before. It took some time, but eventually I was able to keep up.
Re-entry is still weird, and home feels more like a vacation than home, but I am finally catching the rhythm.
