a place where Life is

Today, I have officially been back in Thailand for a month. For those of you who are reading this and weren’t aware, I was indeed in Oregon for the month of June for my best friend’s wedding (whoo! The Grables!).

If you are reading this and suddenly feel a little sullen that you didn’t see me, I apologize. My time in Oregon can only be described as whirlwind-like. Truly. You can ask my mom; she would tell you that she didn’t see me very much and when she did, I was either jet-lagged, or an emotional basket-case.

It’s a very weird sensation to be home and not really Be there. I’ll try to explain what I mean a little better. I was in Oregon, but there for a wedding, to be a maid of honor—which is not what I do at home on a regular basis. I think an aspect, or a necessity, for really Being at Home is to assume some standard of regularity and routine, and while being Meaghan’s maid of honor was so lovely, there was no regularity or normalcy in all of that.

And then I lived out of a suitcase/ a number of bags of various sizes, and was so enthralled with the beauty of Oregon that I was very nearly a tourist in my own State (and I feel proud to be a citizen of a State that can put me into such a feeling of giddiness over mountains and trees and ducks).

And then I knew that before I could sit down and process that my best friend just got married, life in Oregon has changed since I left it, and my little brother and sister have gotten older and wiser, I would be gone. So in a sense, I was in Oregon, but I wasn’t really There—.

I didn’t prepare myself for how hard it would be to actually leave though. It wasn’t until about 48 hours before my plane was to take off that it hit me what I was leaving. This is not to say that everything I was going back to wasn’t incredible, not at all. But just knowing that another 5 months would pass and Oregon would be different, my family would be different, my friends would be different, and I would be different, was a lot to take in. And if that weren’t enough, my little brother thought that I wouldn’t actually leave at the end of the month. So when I told him I was leaving the next day, he said I couldn’t, and when I told him I had to he just crawled up into my arms and stayed there while I tried not to lose it. I said I’d be back before he knew it.

I wondered as I left that if a tornado were conscious, how it would feel to be blowing through cities and homes and have no opportunity to rest, only the knowledge that it must keep going. I described my time in the States as being a whirlwind tour. And while I didn’t think I was nearly as destructive as a tornado, as I left my little brother and family, and felt the full force of departure and what Distance from those you love means, there was a part of me that wondered how I could recover from something like that. And I wondered if anyone else I saw at home felt that way after I left, and hoped they didn’t because the feeling sucked.

As I arrived in Chiang Mai, feelings of both joy and sorrow wrestled about in my belly. There is nothing better than seeing two great friends jump at the sight of you and offend and concern all Thai people who happen to be present that same time. And it was so exciting to be back, to take my place on the back of the motorcycle behind Brittany, who I missed So Very Much, and take in the familiar sights, smells, and sounds of Chiang Mai and know that even through the despair I felt about leaving that arriving here was pretty great.

I hoped that the pit in my stomach would start shrinking when I arrived back, but initially it didn’t. And I felt horrible for bringing so much weight back into the Apartment, into Work. And I felt stupid and crazy that every five minutes I’d have to consciously bring myself back from the verge of tears. I realized with horror that it was not as if I just wanted to be back at home, but that I literally didn’t want to be anywhere. Unless you count Nowhere as a place. Luckily my bedroom at night, or with the curtains shut in the morning was close enough and so I rested there and despaired.

It’s embarrassing to admit all of this to anyone who happens upon this letter. But I believe honesty is one of the best things… And I also believe that naming things that scare us is the best way to shed light on them and make them not so frightening. And if you’re reading this and thinking, Wow, I wish she’d stop being so melodramatic….I apologize and ask that you be graceful to a girl who’s heart is learning daily how to be unfolded in order to love and feel things more deeply.

After a day or two, I let Brittany into my mess. And she listened and nodded and didn’t think I was stupid or a ridiculous basket case, which was nice and comforting. And she gave me the best advice that only BQ can give (if she hasn’t advised you ever, be jealous right now) and though I didn’t feel better, I felt heard and that was what I needed. For the next two weeks, I cried a lot and brooded a lot, but began to see that I was feeling things very deeply and for the first time felt thankful that I had so much in Oregon to miss and pine after.

My most regular prayer since I’ve been here is that I have eyes to see and ears to hear what God might have me—and as I came out of this melancholy, I saw what my heart had done as I got over physical, emotional, and spiritual jetlag. It had gotten bigger and my ribs almost hurt for the weight of it. My frequent verge-of-tears moments were becoming less frequent, but when they hit, it was not so often for memories of home but because I was seeing people here, truly seeing them for the beauty and tragedy that is so evidently there that I sometimes choose to ignore or be unmoved by.

The Drop-In Center is a place where Life is and as 50 kids come every day to play, learn and eat dinner, I can’t help but be so moved by them. And begin to love them.

We had a seminar last week, which addressed the subject of Joy and where we find it. The seminar looked at it from both a scientific and theological perspective and found that both were saying the exact same thing: Joy exists and we find it fully in Relationship with one Another.

Kahlil Gibran says in The Prophet (likely one of the most brilliant pieces of literature in existence) that, “Your joy is your sorrow unmasked. And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears. And how else can it be? The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain…When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find that it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”

And so I entered, and am always entering back into my Home here and Life here, and into True Relationships, I am find that though my heart hurts when I think of everyone I love who I left, it’s for Joy’s sake and Love’s sake (and hopefully God’s sake) that I feel those things. And I hope and pray that as I return to Oregon Home in December that I feel the same sense of loss and sorrow over leaving a Home I love.

I think Joy and Sorrow might be the essence of a Life well-Lived. I hope that I am continually open to the Life that happens here all the time, and I pray the beauty and truth that Life is happening all around me all the time whether I see it or accept it causes my heart to unfold bigger and bigger.

If you saw all the kids in the Drop-In Center, and how smart the ladies are in their English classes, and how beautiful and growing and stretching our Community at the Garden of Hope is, your heart might break it’s so lovely. And you would know how abundantly this Life could fill up the pit that was growing in my stomach when I first got back here.

I look forward to keeping you up-to-date on the Life that happens over the next four months Brittany and I are in Thailand.

Peace and love to you all. And Joy.
-Kelly