Coming home is never easy.
Transition, in general, is hard for me. Even with all of the times I've been in and out of the country, this kind of transition never gets easier for me. I am overwhelmed. Confused. Torn.
Trapped between two worlds.
In a span of a few hours (in the grand scheme of things-- although traveling around the world feels like it goes on for weeks sometimes. Especially when you're 7 months pregnant. Extra especially when no one can tell that you're expecting. But I'm getting off subject. Blame pregnancy brain.) my entire world changes. My normal shifts from one side of the spectrum to the other.
It's normal for me to drive on the left side of the road, dodging pot-holes, people, bicycles, motorcycles, and various forms of livestock-- all while never exceeding about 30 miles per hour.
But in the blink of an eye, it is also normal for me to drive on the right side of the road amidst traffic flying by at 75 miles per hour. It's normal for me to easily jump in my own car, buckle up (!!!), turn on the radio and AC, and easily get to wherever I want to go, usually with no hold-ups.
It's normal for errands to take all day. To go to five different supermarkets looking for yogurt or chicken fillets or pancake syrup because everyone is out of the rare items. It's normal to run to the clinic without an appointment for a $10 check-up. It's normal that a friend drew my blood at home and we take it to the lab ourselves to save us some time and a couple of dollars.
But I hop on a plane and then it's normal to be home from the grocery store in an hour with anything and everything I could possibly want. My first doctor's appointment here was made weeks in advance, and I don't even want to know how much it's going to cost me. I'm fairly certain I won't be walking into his office with my own tube of blood this time.
It's normal for me to have conversations that mostly center around lives at stake and people's wellbeing that are in our hands-- a friend dying of AIDS, a sick little boy who keeps going into crisis due to sickle cell anemia, the lies & deception & tragic histories & unethical practices & everything else that surround us and make ministry and life there hard.
And suddenly it's normal to talk mostly about how nice the weather is, college football, new stuff and how "busy" life is. (Although life here is rarely urgent the way that life there is.) Maybe the conversation occasionally turns to what's going on in the world, and it's casually mentioned that Uganda is expecting a terrorist attack similar to the one in Kenya last month. No big deal for most people here. Except that I just came back from that country. Except that I love that country and so, so many people in it.
That's when the discrepancy between my life here and my life there feels suffocating. Like I'm walking on a tight rope between these two worlds, these two extremes that both feel natural sometimes. The tension is sometimes too much to handle, and I end up crying from being overwhelmed in the aisles of WalMart or snapping at someone about getting over themselves and realizing what is truly important in this life.
So here's an apology in advance if you catch me on a day where the tension in my heart is too much for me to handle. I wouldn't trade my experiences overseas for anything, but it does make living a "typical" life in America difficult to navigate sometimes.
But I am thankful for a God who gives peace, joy, and affirmation each step of the way. I know that even though the biggest piece of my heart is thousands of miles away, I am firmly planted here for now, and this is where I need to be.
Transition, in general, is hard for me. Even with all of the times I've been in and out of the country, this kind of transition never gets easier for me. I am overwhelmed. Confused. Torn.
Trapped between two worlds.
In a span of a few hours (in the grand scheme of things-- although traveling around the world feels like it goes on for weeks sometimes. Especially when you're 7 months pregnant. Extra especially when no one can tell that you're expecting. But I'm getting off subject. Blame pregnancy brain.) my entire world changes. My normal shifts from one side of the spectrum to the other.
It's normal for me to drive on the left side of the road, dodging pot-holes, people, bicycles, motorcycles, and various forms of livestock-- all while never exceeding about 30 miles per hour.
But in the blink of an eye, it is also normal for me to drive on the right side of the road amidst traffic flying by at 75 miles per hour. It's normal for me to easily jump in my own car, buckle up (!!!), turn on the radio and AC, and easily get to wherever I want to go, usually with no hold-ups.
It's normal for errands to take all day. To go to five different supermarkets looking for yogurt or chicken fillets or pancake syrup because everyone is out of the rare items. It's normal to run to the clinic without an appointment for a $10 check-up. It's normal that a friend drew my blood at home and we take it to the lab ourselves to save us some time and a couple of dollars.
But I hop on a plane and then it's normal to be home from the grocery store in an hour with anything and everything I could possibly want. My first doctor's appointment here was made weeks in advance, and I don't even want to know how much it's going to cost me. I'm fairly certain I won't be walking into his office with my own tube of blood this time.
It's normal for me to have conversations that mostly center around lives at stake and people's wellbeing that are in our hands-- a friend dying of AIDS, a sick little boy who keeps going into crisis due to sickle cell anemia, the lies & deception & tragic histories & unethical practices & everything else that surround us and make ministry and life there hard.
And suddenly it's normal to talk mostly about how nice the weather is, college football, new stuff and how "busy" life is. (Although life here is rarely urgent the way that life there is.) Maybe the conversation occasionally turns to what's going on in the world, and it's casually mentioned that Uganda is expecting a terrorist attack similar to the one in Kenya last month. No big deal for most people here. Except that I just came back from that country. Except that I love that country and so, so many people in it.
That's when the discrepancy between my life here and my life there feels suffocating. Like I'm walking on a tight rope between these two worlds, these two extremes that both feel natural sometimes. The tension is sometimes too much to handle, and I end up crying from being overwhelmed in the aisles of WalMart or snapping at someone about getting over themselves and realizing what is truly important in this life.
So here's an apology in advance if you catch me on a day where the tension in my heart is too much for me to handle. I wouldn't trade my experiences overseas for anything, but it does make living a "typical" life in America difficult to navigate sometimes.
But I am thankful for a God who gives peace, joy, and affirmation each step of the way. I know that even though the biggest piece of my heart is thousands of miles away, I am firmly planted here for now, and this is where I need to be.
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