Emotional. One word that accurately describes arriving back in the states yesterday. We have spent the last week in Jamaica and got back home yesterday. After seeing all that we did this past week, it feels very odd to be surrounded by so much. I can't really explain the feeling. It is very odd. All week we had what we needed: food, shelter, a bed (bunk-bed style), showers (although cold), and electricity. Just the basics, but exactly what you need to live. No unnecessary "excess" stuff.
As I pull into my neighborhood, lined with two-story homes, each with at least one car filling the driveway, I can't help but feel an overwhelming sense of emotion. As I walk inside our air conditioned house, set to a particular temperature, I place my belongings on our granite countertop and take it all in. Tears stream down my face. All of the decorations, electronics, furniture; little things that we take for granted. They seem to consume the inside of the house. I wash off in our shower, lined with tile, complete with double shower heads on either wall, and at the water temperature I desire. I'm overwhelmed with just how much we have. I'm overwhelmed by this life of luxuary we live. I don't feel sorry for those who I know are still in Jamaica, because most are content with what they have, but rather, I feel very blessed. You see most live without warm water, air conditioning, shoes and clothes that fit and match, and many other small things we take for granted in America, but they are happy with what they have. Cool showers are a way of life, some even wash in the river. They have clothes on their backs, though not expensive or designer name brands. Most live day to day, with just enough to survive. We aren't rich by any stretch, at least not by American standards. But, even the poorest of the poor here in our community have far more than most I met in Jamaica. It sounds cliché, but it's so true.
On the other hand, I'm sad to be back home, for things to return to normal. In a way, I feel that when my schedule returns to normal, somehow all I've experienced will slip away. I don't want the busy-ness of this American life to crowd out the simplicity and humility I've experienced. So, I'm holding on to all the memories as tight as I can. I don't want to ever forget the faces I saw in Jamaica. I don't want to forget any of the people I met there. I don't want to forget the poverty I saw. I don't want to forget the brokenness, but I also don't want to forget the joy. I don't want to forget the lack of innocence I saw in most of the children. I don't want to forget how starved they were for attention and love. I don't want to forget their excitement over small toys from the dollar store. I don't want to forget the hunger people have there for the Gospel and good news of Jesus. Most, just waiting and desperately seeking something to hold on to. I don't want to forget how content they were with what little they had. I don't want to forget Lisa, Stephanie, or Babs. I don't want to forget the little girl who begged and begged me for water. I don't want to forget the sweet, sweet children and people who live at the house where we stayed: Deanna, Samson, Joshua, Moses, Jadah, Sheena, Felix, Bryan, Jim and Penny. I don't want to forget their energy. I don't want to forget their boldness.
There are so many memories that I don't want to let slip away. I hope through journaling, pictures, and video, they will stay with me. This trip has been life changing. Words can't describe what we have experienced. I'm still trying to process it all. The people and places I saw will hopefully stay with me forever.
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