I've been back in American for a week and a half.
I have a toilet that flushes with ease.
My showers are hot, and never run out of water.
I have eaten meat, and salad, and ice cream made with real milk.
I have coffee. Real coffee.
My house is air conditioned, and the electricity stays on all day.
I can fix my hair and wear clean clothes and look like a real human being.
I've been to church. In English. With worship songs and sermons that aren't playing through an iPod speaker.
I've been reunited with friends and family that I missed terribly while I was away.
I've been asked a million times "how was your trip?" or "what was the best part?"
How was my trip?
What was the best part?
Our last few days in India we talked about how to handle questions like that, how we could possibly sum up everything great and beautiful and heartbreaking and terrible that we saw in a neat little sentence. No one wants to stand in line in the grocery store, or at the back of the church after the service and hear you pour your heart out and cry and laugh for an hour while you remember the faces and the laughter and the love you found over the summer.
"It was incredible, God was so good. I fell completely in love with the kids there. I'm glad to be home, but I miss it so much, and I can't wait to go back."
Thats what people want to hear. And every word of that is true. My summer was incredible. God was, and is, so ridiculously good. He showed himself to me in crazy ways this summer. My whole heart belongs to those wonderful kids at SCH in India. I am glad to be home. I'm glad to be with my friends and my family, and back in my community, but everyday my heart aches for my team, for my kids, for my beautiful, simple life in India. That's what people want to hear, and its the truth, but it doesn't begin to cover my summer. It doesn't begin to cover the way my heart was turned over and over the past two months.
I could talk for an hour about the way Melanie* giggles, and how sweet the sound is.
I could talk for an hour about carrying Palmer* on my back, running around the courtyard with him.
I could talk for days about the ways my team impacted me. About the love they showed me, and how much I saw Jesus in them. About how much they taught me about myself.
I could talk for days about the work that SCH is doing. The incredible way it is impacting these kids lives. The way it impacted my life. I could talk for days about the things SCH is doing and still not be done.
No matter how hard I try, I don't think I'll ever be able to really explain the way I felt at the homes. I'll never really be able to tell you about the moment that I realized I was completely in love with these kids. I can't find words enough to explain the ache I feel being apart from them. The mix of joy and sadness I feel when I look at pictures of their smiling faces.
A few days ago one of my teammates text me.
"India really happened, right?"
I looked down at my hand, the outlines of the intricate Henna, done so skillfully, fading to a light orange. A ghost left over from what seems like an eternity ago. It really happened.
Is it possible that less than two weeks ago I was in India?
I'm glad for the carved elephant on my keychain.
I'm glad for the ribbon tied around my bible, a ribbon I found at the Faith Home while we prayed over the rooms the children would move into.
I'm glad for the notes taped into my journal, notes of love and encouragement from my team. My family.
I'm glad for the paint on my Chacos, left over from days spent singing with my team and painting the walls of the girls home.
I'm glad for photographs. To be able to see those gorgeous smiles and remember their laughter.
I'm glad that when I am curled up in my bed alone, missing the 20 girls that I shared a house with, I can pull my Indian quilt around me and know that, yes, it was real. It happened.
I miss India. I miss my team.
But I'm excited for this semester. I'm excited for my community and my friends. I'm excited for God to continue growing me. To challenge me and to reveal more of himself to me. I'm ready for Crosspoint, and Community Groups, and Taco Tuesdays. I'm ready for Pot-luck at Terrell's and days of too much coffee at Java Jacks.
And I'm excited to pray everyday for my kids. I'm excited to check the SCH blog daily. I wait anxiously for updates from the long-term volunteers still there, stalking their facebooks enviously.
I am so excited for what this semester looks like, for the things God has in store for me. Adjusting to being back is hard. Harder than I ever thought it would be. Its hard to be separated from my team, the only people that felt the things I felt this summer. But I am adjusting. I'm learning to love my kids from afar until the time that I can, God willing, return to them.
I have a toilet that flushes with ease.
My showers are hot, and never run out of water.
I have eaten meat, and salad, and ice cream made with real milk.
I have coffee. Real coffee.
My house is air conditioned, and the electricity stays on all day.
I can fix my hair and wear clean clothes and look like a real human being.
I've been to church. In English. With worship songs and sermons that aren't playing through an iPod speaker.
I've been reunited with friends and family that I missed terribly while I was away.
I've been asked a million times "how was your trip?" or "what was the best part?"
How was my trip?
What was the best part?
Our last few days in India we talked about how to handle questions like that, how we could possibly sum up everything great and beautiful and heartbreaking and terrible that we saw in a neat little sentence. No one wants to stand in line in the grocery store, or at the back of the church after the service and hear you pour your heart out and cry and laugh for an hour while you remember the faces and the laughter and the love you found over the summer.
"It was incredible, God was so good. I fell completely in love with the kids there. I'm glad to be home, but I miss it so much, and I can't wait to go back."
Thats what people want to hear. And every word of that is true. My summer was incredible. God was, and is, so ridiculously good. He showed himself to me in crazy ways this summer. My whole heart belongs to those wonderful kids at SCH in India. I am glad to be home. I'm glad to be with my friends and my family, and back in my community, but everyday my heart aches for my team, for my kids, for my beautiful, simple life in India. That's what people want to hear, and its the truth, but it doesn't begin to cover my summer. It doesn't begin to cover the way my heart was turned over and over the past two months.
I could talk for an hour about the way Melanie* giggles, and how sweet the sound is.
I could talk for an hour about carrying Palmer* on my back, running around the courtyard with him.
I could talk for days about the ways my team impacted me. About the love they showed me, and how much I saw Jesus in them. About how much they taught me about myself.
I could talk for days about the work that SCH is doing. The incredible way it is impacting these kids lives. The way it impacted my life. I could talk for days about the things SCH is doing and still not be done.
No matter how hard I try, I don't think I'll ever be able to really explain the way I felt at the homes. I'll never really be able to tell you about the moment that I realized I was completely in love with these kids. I can't find words enough to explain the ache I feel being apart from them. The mix of joy and sadness I feel when I look at pictures of their smiling faces.
A few days ago one of my teammates text me.
"India really happened, right?"
I looked down at my hand, the outlines of the intricate Henna, done so skillfully, fading to a light orange. A ghost left over from what seems like an eternity ago. It really happened.
Is it possible that less than two weeks ago I was in India?
I'm glad for the carved elephant on my keychain.
I'm glad for the ribbon tied around my bible, a ribbon I found at the Faith Home while we prayed over the rooms the children would move into.
I'm glad for the notes taped into my journal, notes of love and encouragement from my team. My family.
I'm glad for the paint on my Chacos, left over from days spent singing with my team and painting the walls of the girls home.
I'm glad for photographs. To be able to see those gorgeous smiles and remember their laughter.
I'm glad that when I am curled up in my bed alone, missing the 20 girls that I shared a house with, I can pull my Indian quilt around me and know that, yes, it was real. It happened.
I miss India. I miss my team.
But I'm excited for this semester. I'm excited for my community and my friends. I'm excited for God to continue growing me. To challenge me and to reveal more of himself to me. I'm ready for Crosspoint, and Community Groups, and Taco Tuesdays. I'm ready for Pot-luck at Terrell's and days of too much coffee at Java Jacks.
And I'm excited to pray everyday for my kids. I'm excited to check the SCH blog daily. I wait anxiously for updates from the long-term volunteers still there, stalking their facebooks enviously.
I am so excited for what this semester looks like, for the things God has in store for me. Adjusting to being back is hard. Harder than I ever thought it would be. Its hard to be separated from my team, the only people that felt the things I felt this summer. But I am adjusting. I'm learning to love my kids from afar until the time that I can, God willing, return to them.
Love this! Love you.
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