The struggle is real

I want to tell myself, “Becky, this is France! No you can’t be sad! You can’t miss home! You have fresh warm bread only a few minutes walk away from your home. Pastries you never even dreamed of to melt in your mouth.   Beautiful mountains frosted in snow outside your window. And your parents have even come to visit.  NO! You CANNOT feel sad!”

But you know what. It happens. Life happens. Frosted mountains don’t take away real pain, real tears, real sadness. There is something to be said for time spent with friends who have known you for years and years. Or family being only a 4-hour drive away. Or chick-fil-a and chipotle rescuing you from making dinner and doing dishes. We have been away from all of that for 5 months now and the homesickness is settling in. It’s kind of like mile 3 in a half marathon. You feel like, “shoot, I’m tired, but I started this and I still have 10 miles to go and that seems like a stinking’ long distance right now.”  (I wish I could use a full marathon analogy but I can’t because I haven’t run one) We will go back to the states, Lord wiling, in 2.5 years. TWO AND A HALF! I don’t even want to tell myself that. To somehow keep it a secret from my heart so I don’t have to hurt. So I don’t have to think of my nieces and nephews growing up and changing and……maybe even forgetting us.

So please pray for us when you think of it. Don’t look at pictures of us smiling on Facebook and think that life is dandy, that we don’t cry and yearn for familiarity and friends that feel like your favorite old sweatshirt, so easy and comfortable to be with because they have walked through life with you. We have really great and wonderful weeks here filled with laughter and funny French stories, but this week has not been on of them.

<written a few weeks ago>