I wanted to share some observations with you, some things I’ve experienced, and perhaps some feelings I may have upon returning home.
Most of the people in America run their water while they brush their teeth. No big deal, right? We have plenty. But this last year I’ve seen first hand the amount of people that don’t have clean water or running water at that to brush their teeth, cook with, or bathe with. I imagine I will be forever conscious about water preservation. But you probably won’t understand why.
Most Americans have a closet and drawers full of clothes yet they claim ” I have nothing to wear.” I have lived the course of a year wearing the same 10 sets of clothes. They have been stained, stunk to high heaven, and torn at the seams, but they still cover my body. This experience has taught me to be grateful, and humble. I’ve realized most people don’t have more than two outfits to their name, and you can count on one hand sometimes the amount they get washed. This is real life in most parts of the world but you probably won’t understand.
Most Americans have a refrigerator and pantry FULL of food, and they constantly complain “there is nothing to eat.” I’ve seen people eating out of trash cans and trash piles. I’ve seen children licking remaining yolk from cracked egg shells. I’ve seen 3 year olds tug on my shirt tail and cup their hands towards me asking for scraps. I’ve seen malnourished babies dying of starvation. For the duration of this last year I have consumed more rice than I care to admit, more pbnjs than one should in a lifetime. I have tasted mystery meats, and eaten vegetables that made me feel sick to my stomach. But I was fed. Our typical $5 a day budget doesn’t allow for much, but it’s something, and I’ve been grateful. I could never again allow the words “I’m starving” to cross my lips. I’ve never been starving a day in my life. Personally food is no longer a commodity, it’s a privilege. And a privilege that not everyone has. But you probably wouldn’t understand.
Most Americans complain about their beds being uncomfortable. I have had numerous dreams about my bed back home, and thanked God on a daily basis for it. I have slept on cold tile floors, 2 inch sleeping mats, rickety bunk beds, twin beds with bugs, I have slept in a tent, a hammock, on a couch, quite a few planes, buses, and even a train. I have had some of the worst nights of sleep in my life. But it probably doesn’t compare to the people I’ve met who have never owned a bed nor slept in one. It doesn’t hold a flame to the numbers of people who sleep on dirt floors each day or the ones who sleep 8-10 deep in the one bed they do have. Having a bed is not a privilege to everyone, it’s a blessing. And it’s one I will never take for granted again. But you probably won’t understand.
Most Americans have more than a hundred dollars to their name yet claim they are broke. I’ve seen the poverty of the world. One month I had eleven cents in my account. I’ve seen thousands of beggars and people sleeping on porch steps. Money is useful and can be very helpful. But it’s not everything. Money really can’t buy happiness. I’ve met some of the poorest people in the world, yet they have overwhelming joy in their hearts. I am blessed to have an education and former job opportunities but I see now, a 9 to 5 and $80,000 a year isn’t everything. But you probably wouldn’t understand.
You probably won’t understand if I get angry the first time I step back into a church after witnessing what “real church” looks like. After reading the book of Acts repeatedly and visiting these countries it has been beautifully represented to me what “church” really looks like.
You probably won’t I understand if I’m out to dinner with you and you hear me complain about the “expensive food.” In the past year I’ve live off $5 dollars a day and eaten some full meals for less than a dollar.
You probably won’t understand if I’m in target and get frustrated at the fact that a shirt is $25 dollars, and people are buying it. I’ve bought clothes on the race for 50 cents up to $2.
You probably won’t understand some of my lingo, the people I talk about, or the stories I tell.
You probably won’t understand when I start crying at random times for no reason. I’ve seen a lot of things, heard a lot of things, and experienced things I can’t put into words. Just let me cry. You won’t understand.
You probably won’t understand what I mean when I talk about team time, feedback, or living in community all year. Being alone in a room to me will seem foreign, and I might not realize if I’m crowding your space. I could try to explain what I mean, but you probably won’t understand.
I wonder what it will feel like to look out the airplane window and lay eyes on that good Ol American soil. I can imagine my thoughts would be jumbled and my heart would race. I would expect to cry a few tears while simultaneously sighing with relief.
I’m home. I made it. Now what?
I would assume the first few days maybe even weeks would be a blur. Seeing people for the first time in almost a year, using a real stove again, and flushing toilet paper will be so surreal.
It’s been hard to process all this and I’m still working on it, but there are so many things I think about on a day to day basis that may seem like nothing to you.
When I’m home and you catch me in the crossfire I’ll do my best to explain what I’m feeling, but you probably won’t understand.
Truthfully I don’t expect you to understand. And it’s okay if you don’t. I have learned a lot about grace on the race and I will do my best to extend that to you. Don’t feel bad if you don’t understand either. Some would call it arrogance or even ignorance but how can you know if you’ve never experienced it. I don’t expect you to feel the pain, or envision the hurt. Because you can’t. You just won’t understand.
Please do your best to have grace with me. Just like you, I will be a different person when I return home. I have lived a different life this last year, and I want to relive some things, share some things, and reminisce some things with you but it will take time and patience. Similarly, you too have changed and experienced things this past year that I haven’t. I also want to hear about you and your life.
I don’t know what this next season will look like for all of us. But I’m expectant God has some things up his sleeve. Entering into this next season will bring joy for things to come, and sorrow of things left behind. I have done my best to explain to you through, blogs, texts, Facebook, and emails what my life has consisted of this last year, and as much as I want you to, you just probably won’t understand. However I look forward to returning home and piecing the puzzle together with each of you.
