I originally wrote this in May 2016 but never published it. I write a lot of things and feel like it's not worth sharing. But coming back to this day, I still feel a lot of this almost a year later. So here it is....
It's been a year and 3 months since I stepped off a plane with a heavy rucksack and bloodshot eyes. I had been traveling for 24+ hours straight and don't know how much I actually slept. I was excited. I was nervous. I couldn't wait to hug family and see friends. I couldn't wait to relax with a cup of coffee and tell stories. I couldn't wait to apply for jobs and ponder the possibilities.
I was warned of the transition struggle. I heard it from long-time missionaries. I heard it from short-termers that adjusted roughly back home after spending 1 year in Malawi. I thought it was hype. I had returned home on 3 different occasions during my time in Africa for short visits. It felt the same when I returned home. I fell into the flow easily each time I returned. I enjoyed those short trips and found them refreshing despite the dreadful travel that accompanied each.
But this is different. Settling back home is harder than I ever imagined. Some days are great. Some days I don't think about Malawi or Uganda. Some days I feel like I never left. I have friends around me, lots of people that I've met since I've been home. I found a church home. I'm working and pursuing a master's degree. I'm able to talk to family without staying up until midnight to accommodate the time difference.
But then there are other days. Days when anxiety creeps in and I get nothing done. Days when I find myself looking back at photos. Days when all I want to do is to visit friends over 7,000 miles away. These days are growing more seldom, but the power of these thoughts & feelings can be overwhelming. I do two things to help me move forward on these days. I downplay the struggle and blame myself for being lazy. I tell myself that it's easy to get hung up on the past because it allows me to shift focus. By remembering the times in Malawi and Uganda, I'm killing time that I should be looking for jobs or studying or connecting with folks at home. The second thing I do is to tell myself that the struggle is selfish. I am focusing on myself and my needs, neglecting those around me. By using these two angles, I'm often able to get out of my funk and move forward, being productive again. But a recent conversation has helped me to use a different angle - not downplaying the struggle but realizing that God is actually doing something with it.
I visited SIM recently to meet with a couple folks. SIM is a mission organization and they are headquartered beside Gordon-Conwell Seminary, where I'm currently taking classes. I knew lots of folks associated with SIM during my time in Malawi and decided to connect with the home office. I went in to chat. I'm not looking to leave the country again nor do I feel called to explore the possibility of missionary positions right now. But I felt the need to talk to someone about being back home. I'm always open for conversations not knowing how God may use relationships for his good in the future. That's why I love meeting new people, our God is unpredictable. So I set up a meeting with a recruiter at SIM.
On the day of my meeting, the recruiter that set up the meeting emailed me and told me that she was not going to be available. But instead, a fellow colleague (Bob Hay) had decided to meet with me. So I went. I stayed at SIM for over 2 hours chatting about Africa and talking about the transition back to the states. As we talked, I mentioned several folks that Bob knew personally. We connected through mutual friendships. When he asked if I knew Sarah Adams before she passed, I teared up. I often talk about Sarah and usually hold back tears. I've talked about our friendship and the lessons I learned from her in so many different situations. Without a doubt, her story is my favorite example of hope and purpose. Her life was short but couldn't have been more powerful. Her story is perfect in so many ways.
Bob recommended a book before I left. "The Art of Coming Home" by Craig Storti. He also gave me a piece of perspective that I will never forget. He has lived in several places in his lifetime, he was in Japan for 11 years, and understands the struggle. He told me that the transition process is actually a grieving process. I had never thought of coming home in that way. Leaving behind a place, domestically or internationally, results in a time of grievance. Things aren't the same and we must adjust internally. I felt differently as I left SIM. I felt like I had found some closure that I've been missing. I'm probably still in the grieving process but I'm learning to cope.
There is no doubt that God intended for me to meet with Bob that day. Looking back, I didn't even know if I would actually visit SIM when I sent the original email. I had no idea what the conversation would look like with the recruiter when I agreed to a day/time. I didn't know that God would use Bob to help me through this time of transition. God works in amazing ways and I don't give him the trust or praise that he truly deserves.
I don't know what the next few months or year holds for me, but I know that there will be good days and there will be "other" days. I'm fine with that. God doesn't promise perfect days void of sadness or struggle. He promises that he is working in those days too. He is wanting me to step up and find him when I'm down. He is asking that I draw closer to him. He wants all of me. He wants me to use the little things to glorify him.
