Hey!! Quick update before the real blog:
We are serving with Faith Center Ministries in Kigali, Rwanda, teaching in the mornings, evangelism throughout the surrounding areas from our host’s home, and fellowship and worship every night with the church! Our hosts are amazing (so hospitable and kind and loving to their community). They already told us we are family and that we should call the Bishop, “Papa Peter”, and his wife, “Mama Agnes”.
Now– to the blog. So, I’m gonna get serious pretty fast because I just don’t like prolonged transitions when I’ve got something to say. And I realized it’s been a while since I got vulnerable with all of you back home.
During the last month with no wifi, I didn’t get homesick. As a matter of fact, I’ve not felt anything for the States at all for the entirety of the Race. I eventually thought something was wrong with me. Everyone else felt something for home or the people they saw as their homes in America. I just didn’t. Then, this last travel day happened. To start, I couldn’t call my parents when we got to the Addis Ababa airport. We were all frustrated and really desperate, in a way, to talk to each other. It didn’t happen. We got to Kenya and I waited two hours before calling my family because they were asleep back home (time zones issues). When I finally did call my family, we had a huge long talk and then, right before I got to say goodbye, the wifi cut out and my phone would not connect anymore. We arrived in Kigali and had issues with both the wifi in the airport and at the hostel during mini debrief. I got to my host before I even realized I hadn’t told my family about another month’s possibility of no wifi.
I thought when I got to this point on the Race that I would feel relieved, maybe even happy, to not be connected via internet. I thought it would be easy… How wrong was I. I thought, “It’s only been four days since you’ve had wifi! Suck it up!” But, oh man. I’ve had tears in my eyes and a painful ache in my heart for the last hour since getting back online. Even beyond that, I’ve been battling against thinking about or dreaming up the scenarios where I never get to see the people I care about ever again. It’s eye-opening to have the spiritual “family” here and I’ve already taken them for granted in the same way it now seems I’ve always taken my real family for granted.
Yup. Tears are flowing. Ain’t no stopping it now. So this is my official statement.
To my family. To Mom, Dad, Alex, Smokey Jr., and Cuddles. To the extended family that I have harboured bitterness and anger against for most of my life, and to those in that extension that I do love and care for and just haven’t seen in a while or have lost along the way. To my previous teams and to P-squad as a whole who could’ve really been my family on the Race if I had let you and hadn’t neglected you, too. To my small group families in DCLS that I could’ve loved much better. To the ex-best friends a part of me will always love but always remember we failed to point each other to Jesus, and the beloved new ones who’ve shown me the very depths of God-centered friendship. To Jesus, who should’ve always been my closest family and my bestest friend.
To all of you– I’m sorry. I’m sorry it’s taken this long for this hardened part of my heart to crack. I’m sorry it took this long for me to understand why you cried or why you cared or why you left. I’m sorry it took this long to forgive or to really believe I’m forgiven. I’m sorry for the neglect and selfishness and unfeeling.
I’m sorry. I love you. And I miss you.
I really mean it this time.
