Going home, leaving home

Each time my ticket is purchased and I'm headed either to the US or from the US, I get excited...and confused. People say, “When are you going home?” And for a brief moment I pause in my mind, having a complete internal dialogue wondering where “home” is. And then I smile and give them the estimated time until my flight leaves.

There is a familiarity of being in Oklahoma, but my life and work are in Rwanda.

People in Rwanda will never know or understand that growing up I was a tomboy and had 14 blackeyes before I graduated high school. My friends and family in the US will never understand a culture where everything is negotiable and if you are sweet, you can bargain your way around things.

Although my family have years of knowing me in ways people here never will, it is the same for people who do not see me here.

Am I different? Somehow. I'm basically the same, but there are just...differences.

A friend who knew me in the US came to visit once and said that I was much more peaceful in Rwanda. I'm not sure exactly what that means and yet, I completely understand. There is a peace in knowing I am obeying the will of God for my life. There is a peace in knowing I live in a culture where Christian values are preferred and protected.

Yet, it's not home.


This is probably one of the most common themes I write about, whether I actually share them or not. I love both places and my heart longs to be in a place I am peaceful with the people who I've known my entire life. But that just can't be...for now. I don't know what the future holds, but I do know. I will never be the same and I will never be at home, until I'm Home.  

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