As I tried to sleep last night I found my head is filled with the children. Sweet brown hands all around me, begging for balloons with words I cannot understand. Their eyes are full and big and framed by such long lashes. They clamored in my head and I couldn't shake it. I couldn't sleep. I realized I will miss them all so much more than I can explain.
Funny how I've lost my heart here. Such an ugly, crowded, dirty place, but I look around and nothing phases me. This is home. The beautiful people far outweigh all the ugliness and brokenness. I know it's not the only thing I've lost my heart to, and I know there'll be many more, but Trujillo, you will always be dear. I am sure of it.
But the hardest part is leaving the Davenports, I think. I don't like to think about it.
It has flown by in the fastest of ways and it has been one of the longest weeks I can remember. I am eager to be home and I am desperate to stay here. I want to get home and see how God shows me to serve in every single area of my life. How He helps me deal with things. I want to do a better job of life in general, and mostly by that I mean I want to shove myself into God's hands and let Him move me the way He wants. (Potter's hands) We are, after all, broken vessels. And the thing about broken pottery is that it is not the end. There's always a way to be put together again. Always a new beautiful vessel to be formed. This, this is just the beginning. Sometimes I think the breaking is the beginning. And how we cope, how we deal with all of it, but most of all, how we grow from it, is how we become whole again.
Leaving is really unbelievably hard. I am eager to be finished with all the flights and such but given the choice, I'd turn around right now and stay. I cried when I hugged Mrs. Davenport and we didn't let go, and I wanted to keep my arms around Mr. Davenport and Ellie and Bonnie held me for so long and I knew they'd miss me as awfully much as I will miss them. Seth said, "See you next year!" and Nathan and Joseph fistbumped me and Kevin stood on tiptoe and his chin brushes my shoulder when he put his arms around me.
Walking up the airplane steps, not even daring a last look behind me at Trujillo, and the residue of goodbye slides around my lonesome heart like leftover candy against my teeth. Sweet, but leaving me so so longing for more. I have a lot of hours ahead of me before I can cry in peace.
Last night Mr. Davenport said this week's been like an all-you-can-eat buffet. He's only been able to taste a little of us while he's wanted to gorge on each one of us. Yes. I cried.
Cat got us a taxi ride right before we left. It was glorious and crazy and laughter filled--me and Cat and Yo-Andy and Allison. We rode again in the taxi to the airport and I cried again. Heaven is very very near. I know that is meant to comfort, and truly, it is the deepest comfort and hope I have right now. But somehow it makes the ache pierce only deeper. Ache is not always bad. But I always forget how much goodbyes hurt.
The flights back were mostly quite bearable. I was by myself from Lima to Trujillo, which was nice, because I caught up on all my journalling and read for awhile. We said goodbye to Alleen at the airport and headed straight to customs/security etc. Yo-Andy, Cat and I were in one row for the next flight from Lima to Miami and though it was horrifically hot and Cat and I spilled gingerale on our laps and our headphones didn't work and we didn't really sleep, still it was nice to be together. Zach was right across the aisle from me and we shared headphones for a few songs. Mr. DeBoer taught us a word game in case we were bored. On the last flight, Zach and I were next to each other again, with James, Kevin and Allison right behind us, just like on the first flight. I read for a while and slept for a little while and talked to the lady next to me who was really sweet and interested in our trip.
Then it was home again, home again jiggety jog. Although I'm not quite sure I really know what home means anymore. I cannot say very honestly I'm glad to be back. And people keep asking, "Isn't it so good to be back?" And I try to explain and of course explaining doesn't help much of anything.
I am glad to be back. It's wonderful to be home and I am so glad Josiah and Magdalena are here to love and enjoy all summer long. I am rediscovering the amazingness that is my parents and learning to love and appreciate my siblings on a whole new level. If there is one thing I have learned in the past 8 or 9 months (and believe me, there is much more than just one thing) it is that God gave us family for a reason. And if you are so undeservedly blessed to have a good one, don't you dare take it for granted. God is shoving opportunities for service and uncomfortableness and suffering in my face and I am unbelievably grateful. It's exactly what I need. He always knows, doesn't He?
And at this point in my life, I have just one more year of life as I know it (whatever that is, right?) and then Lord willing I'll be heading to Peru to spend at least a year there. Who knows whether it will turn into something longer. I am restless and discontent with comfort and stability and selfishness. If I'm not on this earth to get hurt and bruised and give up what I've got for Jesus then why am I here? Anyway, a year is not long at all, as I have learned all too well. And it will be a good year, I am sure of it.
And amid confusion and restlessness and longing, my God is alive and He has my heart. And that is enough. As I said before, this is just the beginning. And the best is yet to come. Always. Further up and further in.
|Surrounded by Davenport boys --wouldn't have it any other way *sigh*|
|Feeling super attractive after a day of work|
|Love these girls|
|The hole our bus made in the road|
|On the beach during our last day|
|My darling Ellie|