I left Cambodia a little less than two months ago, but I'm pretty sure my heart got wrapped up and thrown into the sunset over the rice fields or on the dusty streets in which I would ride my bike everyday.
Is the grass greener on the other side? I'll never really know. The last four years I've spent my time in numerous places with numerous people falling into routine wherever God places me. I've had no choice but to adapt in the streets of Mexico City with prostitutes in daylight from squattie potties trying to communicate to recovering addicts in a Chinese house church in the middle of Shanghai somewhere.
I've wept over the brokenness of injustice in nations all over the world and now find myself in a small country town in Washington a little out of place.
My home isn't here, but is instead where I've spent the last four years pouring my heart out.
And now for rest. Rest is good they say. Time off is necessary for long term sustainment, this I know. But it sure doesn't feel good sometimes.
With the violence in Iraq, disease in Africa, I wake up in the morning and feel so helpless in my one bedroom apartment. There's a yearning in me that wants to be out there, and yet I know that God has called for me in this season to stay right here.
It'll get easier, this I know. This will become home, they say. Just give it time. Days won't be as lonely and there will be new opportunities I know.
But my heart, it's still so far away. It's in that yellow house in Cambodia, it's in the middle of day when I'm complaining about humidity, it's at Jaan bai with my favorite baristas, it's when I see the innocence of ignorance and bliss. It's at cafe Eden with all my friends from all around the world, dwelling on how life brought us together. It's in the quirks, the complaints, and in all the incredible people I feel like I've left behind.
So no, home isn't quite where the heart is yet, but everything in it's time they say, I hope they are right.
No comments:
Post a Comment