09 May 2013

Spaghetti Brain

If this doesn’t make sense to anyone besides me, blame the spaghetti brain.

Today marks the one-month mark of my time left here in Ghana. I am finding myself thinking about going home more and more, especially since we have been on break for 3 weeks and I have been left with quite a lot of free time. The afternoons are HOT and the kids are loud, leading me to spend some quiet afternoons locked up in my room with a book or an unbeatable game of Mahjong (Emily spent a lot of time laughing at me yesterday as I was tried for game after game to win… all to no avail). Today, I am spending the morning fixing my flash drive so that I can load pictures on it to take back, as this computer is staying here (thanks, Dad, for being willing to leave it here!). Right now, it’s hard for me to work up the energy to go and play on the playground with the kids… Again…

We often tease John about his “waffle brain,” thinking in a very compartmentalized way and focusing on only one thing at a time, as compared to our silly and nonsensical girl spaghetti brains that produce a great deal of laughter as our “brain doesn’t connect to our language,” as Autumn would say. Right now, I feel like my brain is a big huge plate of delicious spaghetti, packed full of joy and love and excitement that is happening around me, right now… But the only thing I can stare at is the big honkin’ meatball on top… My plane ride back to the States. My long layover in Frankfurt. Entering into Denver. Getting to the airport in Spokane at 11:30pm. Jumping into a week of wedding festivities for Tricia and Jesse. Going “home.” This meatball looks really good…
But I’m not sure I like meatballs! I’ve never been sure I liked meatballs, actually. And when meatballs including leaving City of Refuge and my family here, I’m really not so sure that I like them. I know I like spaghetti, and spaghetti is around me right now… My life at CORM is the spaghetti… Let’s feast!

But meatballs mean eating Olive Garden… Talking walks with friends… Living with Kendra… Teaching kids with autism, my ultimate passion in life… Hugs from my closest friends… Adventures in the Tri-Cities… Drinking lattes (Alyssa, I can’t wait to do this with you!)…

What about Uno with the kids in the summer hut? Games in the sand with rubber bands? Making Joel flip in circles? Morning greetings from Gamali, Benard, Aaron, and Bismark? Laughing so hard with Emily and Autumn that Em squirts hot chocolate out her nose? Hugs from kids at school?

I want to be present while I am here. I want to bask in those moments.
But that meatball just looks so dang good…

When I first came back to Ghana in January, I struggled a lot for about a month. I wanted to be places I wasn’t, I wanted to be celebrating occasions with people instead of from afar, I wanted to live in community… In a different community than the one I am in. This week, a dear friend was sharing about some of her homesickness struggles and said “Home sometimes always seems somewhere where we are not!” When I put stars on a map for all the places that my close friends are occupying in this world, my heart is spread out over cities… Over states… Over continents… All of which hold a little piece of “home” in the hearts of my friends. If home is where the heart is, then my home is all over the world… And that’s pretty special, if I’m willing to come to terms with the fact that I’m always both at “home” and missing “home.” Easier said than done.

I really want to eat my spaghetti. I really want to focus on what’s here, right now, in the day that the Lord has made… The people that I am around right now… But I’m afraid once the spaghetti is finished, I am just going to be wanting to go back for seconds… And thirds… And that feels painful, when I know that for now, the pot is empty. God planned it that way… But that doesn’t change the fact that for now, spaghetti time is finished.
And that meatball just looks so dang good… “Maybe I’ll just stop there,” I find myself saying.
No. That’s not the kind of life I want to live.

Lord, help me to look past the meatball. Help me to feast on my plate of spaghetti, even though at some point, the plate has to end… Help me to see that you always make more spaghetti, and at some point, there may even be garlic bread to go along with it. Help me to treasure this new home you have made for me in Ghana, and the home you are preparing for me in Kennewick next year… Help me to see that you are our portion… You are our daily bread… You are the spaghetti and the meatball. Let’s feast!

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