I have five days left in Korea, and every time I talk to family or friends back home it's always the same question: are you excited to come home? It really is a simple question, but the answer surely isn't. How do I say goodbye to a country that's been my home for 13 months or goodbye to friends who are the only people in the world who understand what it's like to live here. No one back home will understand the stories or the struggles of this past year like these people do. My heart is full of joy when I think of my past year here is Korea and breaks when I have to think about leaving. But then I see pictures of the nephew I haven't met yet, or friends send emails asking me to teach them Gangnam style, or requesting to make plans to eat at favorite restaurants and my heart is full of joy again. So you see, I can't answer that question. I'm leaving one life to return to an old one; one that's not really old anymore, but changed entirely.
When I was in Japan over Cheosuk, my travel buddy and dear friend Zara asked the question,"How are we ever to go back to normal lives after this?" Now, we were probably sitting beside the river in Kyoto after having seen the Imperial Palace or some beautiful thing in Japan which is totally not normal at all, but all I could think was how Frodo (enter nerd moment) said the same thing at the end of "Return of the King". How do I go back to normal? Life abroad isn't normal. At all. I can go to Japan or China for a long weekend. I can save enough money in a year to almost pay for grad school (didn't do that this year, but it could be done). I can have friends from all over the world and be immersed in 7 different cultures at once. It certainly isn't or hasn't been easy, but I remember these moments and am reminded about how beautiful this last year has been. Which is why I want to do it again, and again, and again. Trust me, I don't want to be in Korea forever, but this year has taught me that I love being an expat. I love living in different cultures and adapting. I meet some of the most wonderful people when I live abroad, and all I can think is that there are so many more people to meet, so much food I need to try, so many languages I can dip my toe into. Think of all the roads left untaken, Robert Frost. I have to go. I have to take them.
I don't know if my life will ever be "normal", as Zara put it, again. I don't know where I'll even be in four months (plan is Korea for round 2), but I do know that I enjoy this life and the joy and experience of it all is worth the heartbreak of not being at home, missing family, and saying goodbye to beautiful people all the damn time. I cannot compare holding my newborn nephew to touring Kyoto, Japan (which is what I was doing when he was born). It will forever be a thing I missed and my heart hurts thinking about it, but my time in Japan is something that will be with me forever as well, and that experience is something I'll cherish.
I don't know how expats do this living abroad thing. I don't know how I didn't cry like an ugly Claire Danes Juliet in "Romeo and Juliet" when I missed Christmas, but I like this life, as strange as that might sound. At this point in my Korea journey I'm reminded of my goodbye times in South Africa and Ireland and having to say goodbye to my friends that I'd made there. My heart was wrenched every time. It is honestly painful to build relationships with so many people and then say goodbye, knowing you'll probably never see them again. There are a million hellos, a million goodbyes, and a million heartbreaks. Every. Damn. Time. It's something that shakes me to deep to the core. There are some relationships that will last and others, even though we say we'll stay in touch, I know from experience, we won't. Some friends will cross the world to reunite and others will fade.
I remember praying in the airport at RDU for the Lord to grow me and let me experience things that would stretch me and teach me, and that prayer has been answered. The lesson that he has brought before me most consistently is to have unfailing trust. Trust that the bus won't go off the cliff, that the doctor won't kill me during surgery, trust for my future, my job, and my finances. This has been the greatest lesson this year. I must trust and put my hope in him. I surely couldn't do it all alone.
When people ask, "why are you coming back", here's my answer:
