I write because taking pictures would mean stopping the
moment to capture it.
I write because speaking my feelings would result in verbal
vomit.
I write so that someone can feel something they need to feel
but can’t express.
I write so that I can help others understand different kinds
of people.
I write so that I can understand myself.
And lately I’ve been learning some things in myself that I’m
going to try to put into words. I will
title it, “When the Nomad Must hitchhike.”
For the most part, I am a frolicking nomad, but even frolicking
nomads get tired of traveling, and sometimes they wish they could just go
home. But I don’t exactly have a home; I
have four countries I call my own, but I own none of them, and not one of them
owns all of me. My childhood, family,
friends, and job are split between the four countries that fight over my identity
and future. This summer, however, I
opted to visit my friends on a crazy two month road-trip in America before
returning to China.
Beijing to Chicago to Rockford to Indianapolis to Cedarville
to Towanda PA to Philly to New York to Cleveland to Columbus to Xenia to Dayton
to Cincinnati to Rockford to Geneva to Winnetka to Cedarville to Beijing. That is a lofty summer itinerary for a frolicking
nomad without a car. Yet, five weddings
dictated my summer travels, and I was left to creatively connect the dots.
Any time I got from one dot to the next, I breathed a sigh
of relief, checked my instagram, and continued working on my next destination. I was, as I began to say, on a national tour
where I was my own manager and back-up dancer.
(It usually got me a few laughs, but then I got scared that I would tell it to the same person
twice. Because that never happens.)
Every successful “gig” served as a testimony to Father’s faithfulness, my incredibly
nice friends, MegaBus, Greyhound, google maps, facebook, the English language, WiFi,
texting, and absurdly determined and creative networking. It was a nightmare, a blessing, a walk of
faith. Seriously, I tell you the stories
some time. ;)
I knew this coming into the summer. Though beyond excited to visit people I love,
I dreaded the inevitable dependence I faced.
Here’s the thing: I’m a really independent person. I hate
inconveniencing people or appearing needy. Yet, I’ve had to do this for most of my life,
especially during college when I couldn’t go home for breaks or summers, and,
though Father was always so good in providing me with a job or a place to stay,
some months were harder than others. The
following angsty-angst was written a few summers ago…
“Hugging my pillow because it’ll be five months before I can
hug my mom or dad or brother or anyone that I can cry in front of with the
confidence that I’ll still be loved and not viewed as a pity case. I’m surrounded by dozens of nice families and
relatives who are more than happy to take me in. For a while.
For a price. As long as I don’t
disturb the flow of their lives for too long.
And I wouldn’t want to-- I don’t want to be in the way! Maybe I care more than they do. Maybe it’s just my problem. I’m so blessed and Father is so good and people are so
generous. But right now I feel so alone. So helpless, so dependent, so
burdensome. Always apologizing, always
thanking, always indebted. I long for
the place called home, where I can be comfortably dependent. Where I can go on
breaks and stay without asking permission—I just know. Where I can store my
stuff over the summer without getting looks that label me materialistic. Where
I can eat what want in the fridge without feeling like a greedy, fat moocher,
raiding the kitchen. Where I can sleep in and not feel like a lazy deadbeat
crashing the house. Where I can fart and
fall asleep on the living room couch. Where
I can occasionally neglect to make my bed, without being paranoid that I’ll be
judged as a slob. Where I can a ride somewhere, without calculating how many
gallons and minutes are being wasted on my account. Where I don’t need a
muffler for my tears, like I do now. Because
I don’t want pity. I can’t afford pity,
because then I have to make up for it somehow.
And I am always making up for it, for my presence, judging the time
limit to my welcome. And I feel the time
running out, but I still I have five months to go. Dry the tears. Put on a smile. Do the dishes,
and earn your keep. Independence is the
name of the game.”
I share this, not because I like exposing my
overly-analytical, emotional-like-a-girl heart, but because I was recently encouraged by how Father
has changed my perspective.
See, I learned a lot this summer. I realized that, while there are
uncomfortable situations, my sense of comfort and belonging often depend on
my attitude and perspective. I found
that I already have many of these
“homes” that I so longed for, once I quieted my pride, let myself relax, and
reminded myself of truth. For example:
Truth: People
love me. They want to see me. I am not a burden.
Truth: I do no
not need to earn my keep. I do not need
to do the dishes or treat people to ice cream or give gifts or compensate them
for gas. If I want to do these things because
they’re strapped for cash or I happen to like sharing and singing while doing
the dishes, then I will. Because I want
to thank them and be a blessing.
Truth: I can’t be
with people 24/7. And that’s ok. And no
one expects that.
Truth: If I feel
dependent, that’s because I am. I was
designed to need people, to crave fellowship, to make mistakes and learn from
them and cover other people when they make mistakes. I don’t have to return every favor or even
every score because that would cheapen the beauty of supporting each other as
flailing, fragile humans. I need people,
and I need Father every single day because, independent and determined as I am,
I am not strong enough on my own. This
summer has been a daily reminder of that. :)
I want to thank my parents, grandparents, Sharon, Meagan,
Rebecca, Bethany, Abby, the Pi’s, Julie, Emily, Grace, Joellyn, Sam,
Amanda, Alyssa, Gabe, the Phillips, Ben, Aaron, the Nicely’s, Aunt Linnea and
Uncle Steve, Uncle Don and Aunt Sharon, the Moores, DJ, Malia and countless Cedarville
friends for housing me, feeding me, driving me, encouraging me, and showing me
a really good time. :) Your kindness has taught me so much. This has
been an incredible summer, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything, even a summer
with a car. :) #greatisthyfaithfulness
you're so cool, Stephanie!
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