How can I describe the last 4 and a half days of my life? Numb. Empty. Lonely. Longing. But also knowing that I'm blessed (more on that later). It's been much harder than I expected, coming home. In fact, it's nothing like I expected. And not only that, I'll take it a step further. My entire trip was nothing like I expected it to be. I don't really remember what I expected, but, I know it was nothing like I imagined. It was better (and God always has a funny way of doing that to me, making things better in ways that my measly little brain couldn't ever begin to dream up). So, while I can't tell you what I did expect, I can definitely tell you what I didn't expect.
I didn't expect that over the four weeks I was gone so many people were going to crawl into my heart, get cozy and set up house there. My team members, my leaders. All the kids who waited outside our house every day for us to get home from ministry and play with them and hold them. Our contacts. Our translators. Mucasa, Henry, Dennis. Tiba. Linda. Faith, Zam, Grace. Silvia. Samuel, Isaac/Baboon/Rafiki, Precious. Iddi. David. And yes... even Pastor Thomas. I figured I'd go, play with some kids, hold some babies, have a fulfilling experience, but be able to come home without it causing much heartache. That I would be able to leave it all behind and come back to my life and pick up where things left off. Instead, I'm finding that it's shaking up my world. I'm finding that I can't believe I ever felt truly happy and satisfied in my life back at home. I'm finding myself finally understanding what you always hear missionaries saying when they get home about comfort and America. And what they're saying, isn't just about pantries full of food, cars with heated seats, clean running water, and air conditioning. I understand now that's it's far more than that, beyond material possessions. It's a matter of the heart. It's that I see people around me, lulled to sleep. It's like everyone's just wandering around, caught up in what movie they're going to watch next, or who they're going to hang out with today, or what people think about their face, or whatever, and it's like people have lost touch with "what's really important". Because they really have. And I know this all sounds cheesy and cliche, but I see it. I see distance between the closest of friends; still holding back and hiding secrets because they fear judgment. Families who don't talk with each other about important things because they don't want it to be awkward. And it's awful you know? All the walls that people build up, when we could be experiencing something so much better. To have people that know you inside and out, accept you, support you, love you, pray for you, hold your hair while you puke. We could all really be experiencing the body of Christ. We're not meant to go it alone, and yet we try so hard to (I know I have). In Africa, I was surrounded by the body of Christ. I knew if I needed prayer, all I had to do was ask. If I was frustrated I could just let it out. If I woke up in the night and got scared, I could go cuddle with Jenny. And whenever I needed a bathroom buddy to brave the cockroach infested squatty potties at night with, there never failed to be someone to go with me. I've never experienced community like that, and now that I'm home there's no other option but to continue to love deeply like that (hey friends... come cuddle).
A little over a week ago, I was in my room in Uganda, writing a crave list with Jenny of everything we wanted when we got home. Some examples: Watching The Ringer, pancakes, having sleepovers with my friends, my toilet, sleeping in, being by myself, having a door to my room that doesn't fly open every five seconds, cheese, fast internet, getting all the shampoo out of my hair when I wash it, no listening to babies cry at night, clean feet, and tank tops. The next day we got up in the morning (last Wednesday), and had some of the longest, drawn out goodbyes ever with all our African friends, and we started to realize how much this was going to hurt. By Thursday night, we were sitting in a Holiday Inn in Atlanta, talking about the trip, remembering stories, encouraging each other, and reality was setting in. We were going home, and this was ending. And the next morning, we all ate our last breakfast together, and I hugged what I consider some of my best friends goodbye, and it was truly heartbreaking.
And now, here I am at home. Eating captain crunch, and watching That 70's Show. And I'm looking back at my crave list, and it's all so insignificant now. I could care less about those things, because now all I'm craving is Africa. I miss those conditions, that were deemed so uncomfortable and unlikeable more than anything now. The squatty potty, in all it's glory, because I look back and remember how much the team and I bonded because of that dang thing. The roosters/crying babies/Pastor Thomas banging on the door in the morning waking me up because it always gave me a chance to ask God for some patience in my frustration. Not worrying about makeup, because I knew that the people I was with loved me as is. How tired I would be in between morning and afternoon ministry, because it made me look to God for my strength. Having worship, not because it was required, but because we desperately needed it and wanted it. Eating rice, macaron, chapati, and fruit everyday, because when we got pop, ice cream, or even the occasional glucose biscuits, it was a gift from God.
And now I am home. I miss Africa. I miss it a lot, I can't stop thinking about it, my heart longs for it and longs for the month I just lived. But this is where God wants me now, and I accept it. He's already teaching me so much, just by being home. I'm willing to learn.
At the beginning of this post, I mentioned knowing that I'm blessed. I am SO blessed. I'm so blessed, to have a God who tests me. Who directs me to Africa, directs me to an organization. Who doesn't provide all the support money for me right away, but requires that I trust him first and give him control; then gives me more than enough two weeks before I leave. Who sends me across the world with a bunch of strangers who became my best friends. Who gives me challenges that I can't handle so that I learn to rely on him. Who teaches me how to love deeply, live freely, and learn what it means to be fully ALIVE. Who gives me some of the most beautiful memories and friendships. That, ladies and gentlemen, is why I am blessed. And that is what has gotten me through the last four days.
-Emily
Kristin | July 20, 2011 at 1:36 PM
That was amazing, Emily. :) That's exactly how I felt when I returned home from Bolivia. I love you!
Becca Arnold | July 20, 2011 at 3:32 PM
I miss you em em. Praying for you. Know I am just a phone call away.