I am stuck between nervous and excited. Stuck between wanting to take it all and drop even more. Stuck between the elephant of leaving for a year and a the loud realization that I might not know how to return and just go back to normal as I know it now. Truth is, nothing about home is normal anymore.
I am dropping a house I’ve learned a lot inside. Leaving behind a four-walled room I’ve written countless words inside and cried too many tears out of my eyes than I’d care to admit. We have already dropped the table we’ve had countless meals around as a family. The house is more a shell that’s holding things rather than a home and I am not returning to it once I leave – ever. It makes me feel uncertain.
I have not cried a tear yet. I wonder if not crying makes me incapable of feeling anything. I am still waiting for the river of tears to fall. Mourning not going back to school, mourning leaving for a while, mourning the person I am now because the change to come is going to be transformative. It already has been transformative. I don’t know how people don’t believe in God after watching what He’s done for my Squad and how He has provided every penny to get me where I am today.
How do you live radically when you have everything you’ll ever need without worrying about it being provided for you? How does one leave the country and not get a radical perspective on living out the Gospel? It stumps me.
I feel the weight of things I will leave behind to never see again when I am gone. I could leave things behind here, but if I had my way I’d only bing four tshirts, a skirt, a few pairs of shorts, those flawy pants, and all the underwear I could ever need and some socks, too. And then the necessities. I can always pick up along the way, you know? But if I leave those thing behind at home, I know they will be waiting for me. It’s different than going and dropping three shirts in Uganda, literally to never see them in my sight again in this lifetime.
It’s kind of like leaving the house I’ve known as home for the past 9 years. It’s something I am leaving behind and will never see again unless I intentionally seek it out (which I doubt I will). It’s a weird feeling, but freeing in a way. Do you see where I’m going with this? Leaving possessions behind at home to see them again is less of a challenge because I know I’ll see them again, but leaving them behind in Uganda? Never to see them again, ever? That’s sacrifice. That’s uncomfortable. It’s radical. Worth it. Necessary to living out the Race God wants me to live out.
At first I thought my Race would be about restoration, and maybe stateside it was… But as I’ve been thinking about it, I believe my Race in the actual world will be more about His Love and My Identity in Him, and letting go of the things that are holding me back from that identity He has always had for me. And the thread through all of it will be restoration, but less so restoration in my relationships, but more so restoration and repair in me, and how I find my rest, love, and affection in Him.
Just some thoughts. Jumbled and in my head. I needed to write and process it and share it in hopes that someone out there may be feeling a little bit of the same in their own journey.
All my Love.
2 days till this thing begins, because it begins Saturday morning the moment we drive out of the driveway… Not when I get to the Airport on Sunday or even on Sunday. It begins Saturday, because that is the moment I leave life behind as I know it currently. And I am a jumble of excited, nervous, and humbled that God would even choose to bring me this far.