No one told me how hard it would be to be back in the US after our 5 years abroad.
No one told me how much my heart would ache for our other “home,”and the precious people there.
No one told me the smallest reminders would bring tears to my eyes, such as the smell of cumin and turmeric cooking.
No one explained the grieving that would take place in the days, weeks, and months to follow.
Now that we are back in the States (for such a time as this), people are always making comments about how they are sure I’m so glad to be home.
Little do they know that this place feels little like home, or that the reality is I’m not as happy as they probably believe I am.
Our family has been back now for about 6 weeks, but it feels dreadfully longer.
Oh don’t get me wrong, we are loving being close to our family.
Long hot showers are awesome, dryers to dry clothes are phenomenal, the overload of food choices amazing, and all the conveniences I missed are great. They really are.
But, I miss the process. I miss having to make things from scratch, I miss the slower pace of life. I miss the community of people who made up our world there. I miss seeing God in all the little things.
And yes, I can experience some of this the same here, but it just isn’t the same ( I know that makes little sense, but it is true.)
My husband gets to return to our other home in a few weeks. He will be there for 3 weeks doing some pastoral training, and I’m feeling quite jealous, wishing I could hop in his suitcase and tag along. Yet, I’m thankful for the connection we still have with this place.
Time, it takes time to readjust. This is so very true, but the reality is once you have lived abroad, once a country has claimed a part of your heart. You are never truly the same.
As I selected all the photos I wanted prints of the other night (yes, all 350) my eyes filled with tears as I reviewed the past 5 years.
I know it is easy to glamorize it now, from its reality. I know and remember the days I just wanted to go “home.” I remember the hard days.
But those days were far and few and in between a host of wonderful day.
Had someone told me how much my heart would ache, how much I’d miss this other home, would I still go.
Absolutely, without a doubt.
Someone said the other day it must be hard to live in one place, when your heart loves two places.
And quite honestly I couldn’t have said it better.
Many say home is where the heart is.
So where is “home” when your heart is in 2 places?
It is without a doubt in a hard place, but also a joyful place.
For my heart is full for I’ve been blessed not only to call one country my home, but 2.
And I will be forever grateful for both.