Reentry is hard.
It actually really sucks. Processing through the past, extremely intense year of my life is no easy task for me. Believe it or not it’s much easier to hold a child dying of AIDS. I’m completely overwhelmed by so many things. If you know me well, then you might know that I’m not the most eloquent person ever to grace the earth. It’s hard for me a lot of the time to even put words to the thoughts and emotions that are happening inside of me. I know that a healthy part of reentry is going through my experiences mentally, sharing stories with other people, and grieving the end of another chapter of my life. But honestly it’s been three months and I don’t even know if I’ve really started this process. Or if I have, it’s really, really slow…and painful.
I’m messed up. Big time. Completely wrecked to the core. Crying has become a favorite pastime of mine lately. I think it’s helping me process and heal. Every sunday when I’m in any given church, I cry. I cry because I want to punch the pastor who only pushes prosperity. I cry because I’m moved by the Spirit. I cry because I wish I was in an African church service instead. I cry because I’m self-centered and still have a bad attitude some times. I cry because I’m tired of superficial “Hi-how-are-you-I-am-blessed-and-highly-favored” church interactions. I cry because I feel like no one gets me! Sometimes I cry at Publix commercials. I’m just one big, huge, crybaby. Wahh.
The other day as I was driving, one of the girls that we met at the bars in Thailand popped into my head. I saw her sweet, beautiful puppydog eyes she gave us each night as we walked away from her. I wondered if she still remembers and thinks of us. I wondered if she’s still sick of “boom boom” every night or if she’s become numb, like so many of the girls we knew. I knew I’d likely never meet her again to find out the answer to any of my wonderings. I just began to sob. I cried out to God and I said something along the lines of: Lord, you messed me up. This is your fault. I don’t know what to do now. I’m so overwhelmed by my emotions. I’m so overwhelmed by every little thought. I know that you didn’t bring me on this journey only to return unchanged. So especially now, knowing full well that maybe continuing to follow the call you have on my life is not safe, comfortable, ideal, or financially secure, I’m already messed up…you may as well continue on. Whatever it looks like, wherever you go, I’m following. Show me where.
Somewhere along this pilgrimage, I was changed. Because there’s no way you can stay the same once you’ve been wrecked with God’s great, big, consuming love. This wreckage I’m talking about is a good thing, of course. It’s caused by coming face to face with extreme poverty, demons, and hopelessness. I’m wrecked because I’ve felt God closer than my own skin. I’m wrecked because now that I’ve heard the whisper that there’s something more, there’s no way I can ignore it.
I’m sorry if you’ve asked me about my trip and all I said is that it was “awesome…life-changing.” Because although it was that, it was so much more. It’s a continuous process for me…this whole thing. I don’t really have anything together at all. I don’t know the next step. Pray for me, that I’ll hear God’s voice and that I’ll be obedient to it no matter the cost, no matter how uncomfortable it may be, and no matter what others will say or think of me.
