Have you ever experienced that moment where all the sudden you think – Shoot. This is really ending.
It’s that feeling that first came during the last concert, that came the night before I left for college. It came during rides to the airport, and after the break-up I never expected. It came during the last check-outs after a great RA year, and it came when Rachel left for her honeymoon.
And that feeling, well, it came today. We were at a pool, I wanted to do something fun with the girls for my last weekend with them. We were playing, I was holding baby Susanna. The girls were telling me about the boys who were bothering them. And someone behind me said- what is today?
December third.
In two weeks, I will not be swimming outside, I thought.
And suddenly I hurt all over.
I am excited to go home. I want to see Tommy, my family, my friends, snow at Christmas.
But it’s just confusing and emotional trying to figure out what I am leaving and what I am returning to. It’s confusing trying to make sense of what home is-and why, when I feel it, does it get torn away? Home is there. Home is here. I feel at home with my girls. I feel at home with Abi and Daniel and Ruth and David. I feel at home when I eat a big lunch.
My home is in Wheaton. My home is in the south suburbs. My home is at Parkview. My home is in Cochabamba.
All of these places are home and yet none of them fully is. It’s frustrating.
But as I come to understand this cycle deeper, I am learning to make peace with it.
Each goodbye is really a humbling reminder that I am so not home, but every goodbye is a reminder that I got glimpses of home, at least for a time.
Because God’s kingdom is the ultimate home I think I long for. And God's kingdom is present here, especially in form relationships.
So the fact that I ever felt at home in Cochabamba, or in Chicago or Wheaton means that I got to experience the beauty of being apart of God's kingdom on earth.
Entonces I go, I love, I experience home because I experience God’s kingdom. And I leave. And part of home stays with them. And part of it goes with me.
And it aches.
And it’s always worth it.
Shoot, this is really ending.
I leave here December 14th. Pray for us as a little bit of home gets torn away.
wow, lo...that so eloquently sums up how i feel about this whole college thing, in general...and also with a lot of questioning i've been doing lately about life and transitions in so many different areas...abba, please wrap your arms around lo. may she know that you, the father, are with her, that jesus is near, and that your spirit is greater than any of her fears......p.s. i know this doesn't make it any easier, but i sooooo look forward to seeing you! ; )
ReplyDeleteI love you, Lo, and am praying for you!
ReplyDeleteReading through my tears - what an amazing, eloquent and loving young woman you are. Lots of love being sent to you from your PCC 'home'.
ReplyDelete"It's funny. When you leave your home and wander really far, you always think, "I want to go home." But then you come home, and of course it's not the same. You can't live with it, and you can't live away from it. And it seems like from then on there's always this yearning for some place that doesn't exist. I felt that. Still do. I'm never completely at home anywhere. But it's a good place to be, I think. It's like floating. From up above, you can see everything at once. It's the only way how." (from Caucasia by Danzy Senna). Not sure I agree with the "moraleja" at the end, but definitely with the feeling of home-less-ness. I read this book a couple months ago, and reading your post is reminding me of it, and of how I felt this time last year (and continue to feel... )
ReplyDeleteI just read this now (with 5 days left in Peru) and I feel you. I really do.
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