The words of this post
have evaded me. And I believe I’ve been avoided it as well. I don’t know how to
say it. And to say it makes it seem more real. Honestly, the only reason I am
writing it is because my dear friend is going through the same thing and she
was courageous in writing it in her blog. So here goes.
I don’t know how I’m going
to do this. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with coming “home.” I’m excited
and anxious and nervous and happy. But I’m leaving home to return home. This
place, this “foreign land” is now my home, my new normal. Its normal to not be
able to read the signs on the streets, only understand a few words in
conversation I walk by, to see motorbikes driving by overloaded with people,
umbrellas, bicycles, etc. It’s normal to eat good food from a rickety cart off
the side of the dirty street for a little over a $1. It’s normal for strangers
on the street to smile or to be yelled at in broken English to buy this
knickknack or that for “Cheap Cheap for you!” It’s normal for random places to
not be open during “regular business hours” because the owner simply didn’t
feel like working that day. It’s normal to have a gecko living in my closet,
kitchen, classroom, and bathroom and like it because they eat the bugs and
mosquitoes.
I live in a decent sized
city, not in a remote village. In fact, in many ways it is similar to Thousand
Oaks. But living life here is so vastly, inexplicably different than life in
America. And I don’t know how I’m going to transition back to life there for
the summer. Things that wouldn’t normally make me nervous now do. Simple things
like: What side of the car do I get on? Or What side of the road do I drive on?
And you want me to pay how much for lunch?! (Funny enough, these are some
questions I asked before I moved here.)
Or more serious things
like: How will I share my story of this year, the joys and the pains, to people
who were like family to me before I left, who I’ve barely spoken to here? My
dear friend put it this way: “I haven't talked to most of the people there for
ten months, even people that I consider like family to me. And I know
that's my fault, but sometimes it was just too hard. I'd miss them too
much, so it was easier just to live here and be here.” How can I live up to the
expectations (I admit most those expectations I project onto those people) I
feel on me to be the same girl who left 10 months?
Answer is: I don’t know.
Again I can’t say it any better than my friend: “It will also be hard. As
I try to wrap my mind around coming back "home", it is full of
contradictions. This time will be refreshing, but exhausting. It
will be difficult, but beautiful. I will dearly miss everyone here, but I
will be with the people I have dearly missed for ten months. Many people
may think I'd be so happy to come "home", and I truly am in many
ways. But I will also be leaving "home" and that will be hard
and sad.” I do know that my God is good and He is my constant source of
stability. He will never leave me or
forsake me, whether I’m on this side of the world or that.