when impatience gives way to homesickness

I had a very impatient moment today, in which I thought (though, thankfully, did not voice) very irritated feelings about a woman at the post office. When I caught myself in that not-very-nice thought pattern, I thought to myself, How very non-Nigerian of me, reminding myself once again that the thing I miss most about Nigeria (besides the people) is the person I was when I was there.

The thought prompted me to pick up the journal I kept in Nigeria. For context, the following was written the day I left for good: June 17th 2010.

That's it. That's all she wrote.

I'm 5000 meters in the air and there's no going back. Literally--no visa, no ticket, no going back.

I wish i had the right words for this moment. How crippling and gutsucking it feels. How conflicted.

I want to cry. I want to cry so bad. I want to mourn this place, these people, and who I am around them.

I want to beat down the doors and go back...

I want.

I wish.

I want.

I just want to go home--but where is that anymore? Surely I'm at home in MN, in Wheaton, too. And surely I feel at home at Plot 1079 Opposite American School, Durumi, too.

How long, O Lord?

How long will it be until I feel at home again? How long until I find a way to adequately express my intense longing for 2 places?

I love you, God, and I trust you.

But I don't trust myself and this feels a lot like the wrong decision.

Help.

That portion is followed by an unsent letter to a friend. Next is this:

I'm watching the sun rise over France and listening to my iPod's Relaxed playlist. Fitting, no?

A few thoughts:

- I have a plan. God has a plan. My plan doesn't matter.

- Man makes plans, but God determines his steps.

- God is still who He is no matter where I am.

All this circumstantial evidence to the contrary does little to convince me that this plan in leading me away from Nigeria is designed to do anything but rip me apart.

Lord, help me make sense of this decision, and if not, help me be at peace about it.

While I still struggle with these restless feelings, I would say I am more or less at peace about being in Minnesota for such a time as this. My main struggle now is feeling caught in the in-between, between the right now and the future, between the where I am and the where I'm supposed to be.

This tension feels a lot like what Wheaton taught me about the kingdom of God as the already and the not yet. I think I was made to live in that tension. It's just not a very comfortable place to be.