For those of you who think I've fallen off the edge of the earth... be reassured. I'm alive and well. I'm currently soaking up two years worth of hugs in my old stomping grounds of Mesquite, Nevada.
It's good to be back in the States, but I honestly can't call it "Home". I laugh to myself when someone asks how it feels to finally be "home".
I'm baffled by the question, really. I tend to hesitate a bit before answering, almost as if I don't trust myself to speak.
"Home? Here? Oh, you mean how does it feel to be back in the States?" I clarify.
They nod excitedly, often expecting me to tell them all the wonderful things I missed.
But I can't lie. I've missed nothing. Nothing that the States has to offer... except my family and friends.
Usually, I answer their question with a smile and say, "I'm so happy to see you again. I missed you. Being with you feels like home!"
It's the truth. I no longer feel at home in America. My friends and family are what draw me here. America can keep its cushy couches, air conditioned cars, and fancy fandangled coffee makers. I can happily do without.
Yes. I'm American by birth, but my citizenship is in heaven. My passport may say USA... but I still find Sudanese sand in my shoes.
Even as I write these words, I'm reminded that my lack of connection is just another symptom of my reverse-culture shock.
I confess, it's much worse this time.
Please pray that I'm able to enjoy my time in the States, and reconnect with what really matters --family and friends. Thanks.