The rain

It rained today. The sky spent its day in indecision-- releasing in random moments with sudden blinding downpours. There were brief periods of utter composition; static clouds waiting for yet another moment of emotion. Rush again. And then peace. My mind lingers on a still frame: weighted beacons of water pummel the ground as we walk to church. Yet behind the sheets of water, the sun proudly shines- bold and unabashed. A stark contrast, it shifts my perspective on the sky's tears. They are momentarily beautiful and tiny in comparison to the light. I pause, ankle-deep in flash-flood water, and soak up the image. A metaphor in the making, and I was completely unaware.

Today marks my first day of true homesickness. It started at church: a familiar hymn came on and I suddenly felt a deep longing for home. Not a desire to leave Korea. Just a sadness for the people and communities that are now remote and a yearning for familiarity and comfort. It has been a long few weeks-- an exciting roller coaster adventure full of many firsts and little solid ground. I have survived my first two weeks teaching, my first time living in a foreign country, and my first six weeks in my new home. I have met new friends, a new community, new students, a new culture... so much is unfamiliar my head sometimes spins. All this change has been thrilling--- the excitement and novelty of it keep me restless at night and buzzing for more. Yet there are moments (and today there were many) where the reality of the permanence of this strange place strikes. Where I realize that this-- Daejeon, South Korea-- is my new home. That this is where I really live and will continue to live for the next few years. That this is where I chose to be, am forced to be, and am supposed to be. That, my friends, is terrifying.

All day I felt like one of the heavy clouds that has been weighting down Daejeon's air for the last few days. I felt like at a second's notice I might burst-- all my emotion drowning me and innocent bystanders alike. I found myself rubbing my eyes every few hours and praying that I could will in my tears long enough to be alone or with people I trusted. I finally found that space tonight where I couldn't contain it anymore and where I felt safe. I (in retrospect) jokingly declared myself "a waterfall" at Bible study. I shared with my new co-workers all my feelings: my nagging concern about recent odd health issues (probably just reactions to my new climate, don't worry). My feelings of isolation and distance from all those who truly know me. My deep desire to feel known and understood. My new friends gathered around, hugged, and encouraged. They let me feel my emotions, yet offered hope.

I called Sarah tonight (thank goodness for such a dear friend in my timezone) and began with my "rain." Sarah listened and questioned and shared. Before long I found myself recounting all the amazing things about my school instead of my hesitancies. I found myself brimming with excitement for the activities I have gotten involved in, the relationships I have initiated, the multitude of things I have learned, and the novelties I have encountered. I got off the phone giddy. My mind was unable to escape my metaphor from the day. I am now wide awake, at almost 2 am, driven with the necessity to declare that I am not stuck in either the sun or the rain. That I am allowed both, and that each provides new perspective on the other.

I still feel disconnected from my prior homes. From the people I trust and know and love. But I feel a peace. I am in this space for a reason. This is where I am supposed to be.

I miss you, my friends. Please stay familiar.