Seriously?
This is my triumphant reentry to the States? A big snowstorm. Seriously?
I've traded my shorts for sweatpants, my tank tops for hoodies. There are two pairs of socks on my feet right now. My friend Steph in the DR doesn't even know where her socks are anymore. I had to shovel my car out today in tennis shoes and borrowed gloves. By the time my hermit self crawled back into the outside world to do my duty this morning I was more mentally prepared, but in the previous days as the snow fell and everyone was rushing about to get enough bread to feed their captive families over the weekend, I couldn't help but think, I'm not ready for this.
I've been saying that about a lot of things lately, as I begin this journey most missionaries call "reentry", or the adjustment period after moving back to my home country. Some people have asked me how that process has been going, and while it's going much better now, the beginning was very hard, even painstaking. Some people wonder why it's so hard to readjust to a country that you have lived in your entire life. Why can't you just pick up where you left off?
The truth is things never stay the same. I am a different person than the one who left the U.S. almost two years ago. And life in America has gone on without me. I once heard that culture changes so quickly that even the people living within that culture can hardly keep up with it. What does that mean for missionaries who leave for long periods of time? It means that, at least for a time, we feel like outsiders in our own country.
After adapting to the way of life and pace of conversation in the Dominican, I sometimes find it hard to keep up even the simplest small talk. My clothes, worn and faded from overuse and too many washings, are even more out of style than before I left. While Spanish words and Dominican slang swirl through my mind, Americans are using words and phrases I've never heard of (on fleek? Squad goals?). And while I'm trying to find my bearings and also take time to mourn the friendships I left behind, the world wants me to move on and jump right back into the fast-paced organized chaos that life seems to be.
Im not ready for this.
I've talked to a lot of people about reentry, and I don't think it's something anybody can be ready for. Sometimes I wonder if the process ever ends. The DR is a part of me now, and its influence on my thoughts and behaviors will always be here. But it does get easier to deal with the sense of loss, and I don't feel like an alien every moment anymore. That's progress.
During the hard times I would direct my frustration to God. When the sting of leaving and the shock of reentry felt especially tough, I couldn't help feeling like God had let me down, or broken a dear promise to me. I thought the DR was supposed to be my home. I thought I would be there longer. You promised me, didn't you? Didn't you?
Actually, I would reply to my own question, God has broken no promise. It was I who promised him. I gave him my promise long ago. A promise to go when he called, to lead where he followed. In the good times and in the bad, in the easy times and the hard. To the very end. How could I retract my promise now just because he didn't seem to be leading me where I wanted to go?
But God has made me promises of his own. He has promised to love me (1 John 4:16). He has promised to comfort me when I am hurting (Psalm 147:3). He has promised to provide for me (Philippians 4:19). And he has promised to work everything out for me, even when I don't see the way (Romans 8:28). He has kept his promises and I will keep mine, because I trust him. Today he led me right outside the front door to shovel a driveway with a friend. Tomorrow, who knows? The God who is helping me readjust to life in the United States is the same God who is leading me to my next adventure somewhere. And even though I feel a little lost right now, I think I'll recognize that adventure when I see it.
And I'll be ready for it.
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