Traveling, traveling days

I’m back . . . sort of.  I arrived in Jackson on Thursday after a short but sweet overnight stay in Charlotte–breaking up the trip certainly helped with jet lag!  It’s normal yet strange to be back.  The shell of life is the same, but so much has changed.  I go to Redeemer, and look around only to realize that more than 50% of the congregation is new to me . . . and it’s an even stranger feeling to realize that to them I am new as well.  I’ve had some good moments with old friends–that’s the sweetness in the midst of how hard this transition is going to be.  I don’t have a job, a home, a car . . . but I do have so much.  I’m trying to remember that when I start to panic over how unsettled my life is right now!

I’ve just driven up to Memphis for a grad school interview, and later this week I’m headed to Texas to be with my grandmother and family (and maybe to buy a car and take something off of that “-less” list!).

I think it will be days/weeks/months/years (a lifetime?) before I can adequately share thoughts on life post-Ethiopia.  My mind is still filled with images of Abeba crying, or Deborah laughing.  I don’t want to lose those memories, but have to figure out how to fit this life in.

Castles, groceries, and the inside of it all

Scotland has been a good in-between place, a time for the sound of braying donkeys to fade and the quiet hum of the washing machine to become normal again.  I think I never realize how weary I am until I stop–and then I crash and wonder if I’ll ever have strength again.  I know I’m going back to an incredibly busy time in the US–grad school interviews, family times, coffee chats, job searching, car buying  . . . So I’m trying to soak in the quietness of having a cup of tea and the flat all to myself.  I have a million thoughts swirling through my mind, and in my weariness I don’t want to deal with any of them.  I’m still overcome with the sorrow of having left my home in Ethiopia.  I still wake up thinking of the patients we need to check on today, of the medication that needs to be purchased, of the lab results I need to get.  I don’t expect to ever find the perfect balance of closing this season of life out and yet morphing it into who I am in the next season of life.  But I’m learning to appreciate the small things in this season, and I know that Ethiopia can’t be forgotten in my heart.

I’ve had sweet times with my brother and my good friends here–we’ve laughed and played and visited castles and celebrated St. Patrick’s Day.  I’m glad for this.

Last night I almost had a melt down in the grocery store.  There were at least 10 potato choices–how was I going to make a decision?  There were sounds and colors everywhere–and while I’m coming from a world of chaos and brightness and noise, I had become used to that place.  So again, I will become used to this.  I’m just glad it wasn’t Super Walmart I had to deal with.  Yet.

I leave Edinburgh Wednesday morning, make it to Charlotte Wednesday night, and arrive in Jackson Thursday afternoon.  Maybe in those hours of dwelling too much on the swirling in my heart I’ll make sense of the mess inside.

And it’s funny how we speak so clear
while such a mess inside
I mean more than I’m saying here -
You know that just as well as…

I guess I know better now
That few things ever go
The way that we mean anyhow
That’s better I suppose
–Ellery

The awkwardness of my own

I step off the plane into another world—one that is busy and bright and shiny and bursting with all things modern and fashionable.  I’m overwhelmed by the glittering duty-free shops, the profuse signs pointing a hundred different directions, the heavy odor of expensive perfumes.  I search for the baggage storage, then descend to the train station.  I stare in confusion at the ticket directions.  Where do I want to go?  How do I figure this out?  Do I look lost?  I bump someone with my bag, and I say “yee k’ur ta”.  Too late, I realize my mistake—choose another language, Sara.  I finally ask for directions, and respond with “Ishi”.  I sigh, realizing that I will continue this for the weeks and months to come.  I eventually catch the train headed for the city, and after a few wrong choices make it to the old city center.  I talk to a man on the street, I walk around in the cold wind looking at the grand old architecture and warm, inviting pastry shops.  Finally the frigid drizzle drives me in for coffee and a pastry; I look for kuchen and think of Tanta Marta and Aunt Elsie (they make the finest German kuchen).  This time I remember to say “Danka shen” but a moment later I answer the woman’s question with “Aww”.
I feel awkward in this world.  I’m looking around for clues of what is normal, what has changed since I was last here.  Are my clothes shabby?  Can I eat while walking on the street?  Should I say hi to that stranger passing me?  Is it ok to cross the street before the green light blinks?  I speak, and through the tiredness of the night flight and the realization that my familiar world is back in Ethiopia, I feel lost.  I blend in with the place, and someone asks me for directions.  I like being anonymous.  Then a woman riding a bike startles me by spitting in my face—maybe I don’t fit in.  Can she see it in me, this uncertainty of time and place and belonging?
I just want to belong, I think.  I should feel comfortable here in this world of progression and availability.  It is, after all, my own.  But I gave it up for another, and now I am alone in this place.

How to say goodbye . . .

I don’t know.  But I must.  My flight leaves in 6 hours.  In 6 hours my life will be so completely, unfathomably different.  Not better or worse, really, just so different.  I pass crowds of people walking in the late afternoon sun, past women carrying heavy loads of wood on their backs, past bananas and tomatoes and carrots by the roadside, past huge trucks barreling by, past piles of sticks and rocks and rubble, past brilliant flowers and laughing children.  And I think, “This is my home . . . how can I leave my home?”

I long for a better home, my true home, the home of no goodbyes.

The beginning of the Lasts

I woke up this morning to a Thursday.  It seemed like most other Thursdays—sunny, bright, loud with morning sounds, busy with the knowledge of all that needed to be done today.  But then I realized it’s not just another Thursday.  It is my last Thursday to wake up in Ethiopia.  I have begun a week of last days before my flight departs late next Wednesday.
I don’t know how to live well these last days.  They will be full of work and passing on projects, of goodbyes and tears and gifts, of shopping and packing and cleaning.  There’s a part of me that just wants this week to be over—I hate this transition, the painfulness of ending.  But then I realize that in less than 7 days, it will be over.  And I will wish for these days back.

Goodbyes with a Lideta women’s support group