Visiting Houston five months out of Mission Year has been so hard and so beautiful. I am overcome with gratitude for the chance to spend a week here and be reunited with all seven of my teammates, not to mention so many other brothers and sisters I can't even count. I am most grateful for those who have spoken words of truth and encouragement into my life, who know me, see me, and recognize beauty in the life I am pursuing. Affirmation is so powerful! I am thankful for those who have had the courage to share and receive it.
The hardest part about being back has been recognizing that I am no longer a participant in the daily rhythm of life here. I'm home, but also on the outside looking in again. On one hand, this has brought closure that I've been praying for. To see that life is going on just fine without me, as absurdly selfish as that sounds, causes my heart to rejoice and to ache. Our home campus is continuing to develop. I still feel a sense of ownership over “our house,” as our team was the first to live there, so it's bittersweet to see things changing, even if it is for the better, because I'm no longer part of the daily rhythm.
I believe that community looks different for everyone. I also believe that daily presence is the key to community, to knowing and being known. I think community for me will continue to mean living with people. I value living with people because it facilitates intentionality. That's what's weird about being home (Rochester and Houston); it gets harder to pick up where we left off because our daily experiences are different and tricky to communicate. I'm still learning how to talk about Mission Year and Koinonia, but the best way to share it is for people to come and see, and I am so grateful for those who have made that effort.
I see hope in the eyes of children I love. I see hope in homeless men dancing on the sidewalk to keep warm. I see hope in roofs installed over bus stops once exposed to blistering sun and rain. I hear hope in the exchanging of vows and songs we used to sing. I hear hope in the words, "Yes, Miss Tracy, I'm still making art." I feel hope in hugs and the warmth of the sunshine. Hope is abounding!
Here's another beautiful post by Lindsay:
http://thegrandfarmventure.wordpress.com/2014/01/05/auld-lang-syne/
