The First Three Months

You would think that returning to the United States to live would be a joy-filled occasion. And, it was, to an extent. I was now in the land of my American family and friends. I spoke the same language that others spoke. There were proper grocery stores. And, there were doctors close by! Clothing could be bought at a store. Worship was in English! (Although I didn't recognize the songs at the contemporary service.) I could drive long distances without coming to even one police check point! Temperatures were in Fahrenheit and not Celsius. And, my electrical cords could plug into wall sockets without adapters! 

On the other hand, returning to the United States has been stressful. I lived out of suitcases for two months, sleeping at the homes of family and friends, sometimes five different places in a week. I had to buy a car, car insurance and make sure everything for that was in order. I signed up for Medicare and the Supplemental Insurance needed to go with it. I had oral surgery. I spoke with supporters, both individuals and churches 11 times before moving from NW Pennsylvania to SW Virginia. I had sinus surgery to correct a variety of problems. I didn't have a church home in Virginia. I missed my Ghanaian family and friends so much! And the list goes on. Moving back to the US after eight years in Ghana is not for those who are weak-hearted. 

Yes, those first three months were really difficult. Yet, there were many blessings, too. The love of family and friends for one. (It's a blessing to be able to see those that I have missed for so long.) It's good to be in the same country as my sister and brothers. And, I have friends and family that made sure I had a car to drive before I bought one. I even had "family" visit me for Christmas week. (Imagine a couple of twenty somethings wanting to spend Christmas with me! I was blessed.) I had friends who would listen to me when I needed to whine about my future...where do I go from here?

I still wasn't feeling well. Taking care of my sinuses post-op seemed like a never ending affair. And, things still weren't 100%. I know things take time to heal, but I wanted to be all the way better right away! I took advantage of being around stores and bought dishes and sheets and coffee and some household stuff. I was moving into a fully furnished cabin, but I also wanted it to be my "home" with some of my touches in it. (I sold all my furniture before I moved to Ghana.)

The desire of my heart was to sleep for three months. Well, that hasn't happened yet. But, an occasional nap does take place. 

The truth of it all is God is still God. He knows how I feel. And, He is with me when I allow myself to feel the emotions of an ever changing life. The storms may seem overpowering. He is my Anchor in the midst of it all. And for that, I am grateful.

Home

Ever since I returned to the US at the end of September, I have heard, "Welcome home!" and, "Aren't you glad to be home?" in a million different ways by well-meaning people. But, you know, I still can't answer that question without hurting someone's feelings. I am living in a beautiful cabin in the Blue Ridge mountains. But, it is a temporary place, not my permanent dwelling place. I know that in a year or so I will be moving. While I am here, I am going to enjoy every minute of it. I love the peace and quiet, the beauty of it all. But, is it home?

The saying goes, "Home is where the heart is." My heart has dual citizenship. When I am in Ghana, living life with my Ghanaian family and friends, I miss my American family and friends. My heart yearns for them. And now that I am in the United States, close to my American family and friends, my heart hurts to see my Ghanaian family and friends.

When I returned to Ghana last month, it was like going home. I saw and lived with those I left behind in September. I missed my American family, although not as much as my American doctor since I was sick. And, when I got on the bus to take the 15+ hour trip to Accra, the capital city of Ghana, I had to say, "Good-bye." again. I traveled alone this time, giving me plenty of time to think, to be grateful that God didn't give me just one family, but two. And, two homes.

Will I ever completely feel at home in the US? Maybe. Maybe not. I know that in my heart there lives a gigantic family of brothers, sisters, children, grandchildren, aunts and uncles whose skin is a lot darker than mine. But, that doesn't seem to matter, for we all love each other. And, thanks to the internet, we can keep in touch.

So, home in America has a Ghanaian influence in it, from the lion on the porch to the wall hangings to the Ghanaian clothing I wear. No matter where my "home" is, someone will be missing. My prayer is that we will all meet again someday in our forever Home, where the streets are paved with gold, where hearts won't be broken and we'll all worship at the feet of Jesus. Then, I will truly be "Home."

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