returning...

It was about two weeks ago now that I boarded the plane to fly back to Minnesota. As, usual, departure was awfully early, but the airport process went smoothly, Chepe and Eliett came all the way out to bid farewell and with Joao's incredibly positive demeanor accompanying me, I even made it through the good-byes without many tears.

But airplanes still seem strange to me. To begin, I simply don't get the physics of it; but beyond that, it's just always a sort of surreal experience. It's as if we can teleport from one reality to another (with a few hours of cramped legs and bad/overpriced food along the way) - moving through space and time in way that isn't at all natural.

I scored an exit row all to myself and a few minutes after taking off decided to open my window. The first time I flew I remember being fascinated by every aspect of it, but lately I'm usually asleep by the time the wheels leave the ground. Perhaps I was more nostalgic than normal this time. I wasn't just leaving for a quick vacation, or another round with a new group of students. This time I was flying home to family, flying home to start setting up life again in the midwest.

And out my window were the most picturesque clouds, and aren't clouds an incredible thing? These were those kind-of storybook clouds, the type of clouds I saw so often surrounding God's throne in Sunday school class, or at least saw surrounding Homer as he debated with the Big Guy on the Simpsons. I smiled to myself about these being the first two images that came to mind, but was also somehow comforted by these clouds, painting for me such an unreal backdrop to this terrifying and beautiful moment as I was being hurled away from a place I love toward another place I love.

How blessed am I? To have found various places to call home and to have seen the passion of so many people, so willing to share their stories. To have walked the streets of Managua daily and learned to see them for what they are in their raw, chaotic beauty. To have lived in a place that never let me forget that people are suffering all of the time and that I have an enormous responsibility to them and myself. To be in love and to be so loved so well, to be healthy and able to travel and work and to still believe in change.

Certainly, I returned home grateful. I've talked often about perspective, and hopping on a plane and flying from a place like Managua to place like Minneapolis will give one more than a healthy dose of it. Of course this transition is never easy, or entirely smooth, but it probably shouldn't be. I continue looking for a job and missing the people I care about in other places and working through anger that swells up in response to big and little things that are 'different' than how I think they should/could be. Those 'clashes' or moments of heightened perspective motivate me, and although I'm in a city that may look a little more 'refined' there is plenty of work to be done. It's comforting to sit here in Northfield and still feel within me the desire to keep on as part of that struggle. I'm beyond blessed and so grateful to be here.