Transitioning back from mission has been taxing. The first month and a half were especially emotionally grueling. It was heavy experiencing, hearing about, witnessing everything that had changed in the United States in sort of a pressure-cooker way. All of a sudden I had immediate access to information, my parents were flipping on the news, global-political-governmental issues were brought up in casual conversations. I realized what I had known as a gigantic division in the “greater” world was seeping into my own home, into my every day relationships. And it devastated me. How could I continue living in this charged, angry, hateful new place I’d entered? My heart longed for my Honduras bubble. Where I knew my mission was to be present, love, and serve in little ways. What was the point of my life now? To lay in bed and cry when people I deeply love fought over vaccinations or politicians or riots or the latest divisive issue that surfaced? It was too much to figure out how I fit i...
Just a young woman navigating the way of the world one prayer at a time.