Saturday, October 29, 2005
Remembering Why We're Here
Things have been very difficult since coming back to the States, but instead of trying to find peace in the fact that we're here, I've done the usual pitiful moaning about how bad things are. I had forgotten how bad things really were before we got here, until last night when I read a journal entry from a couple years ago when we were in Egypt. It made me stop and ponder a bit. I really am grateful to be here! Read on:
From time to time I get an empty longing for my country. I've never had to face this strange feeling which is similar to the feeling of grief over a lost loved one. During my 34 years in America, there was never the thought of what life would be like without her. And I say "her" just as others before have done, because she nursed me and pampered me, but, then I, a spoiled child, ran away from her. It is amazing how when we look back on our years, we see things that were previously unimportant to us grow into the one thing that, had we but known it, gave us breath. I miss her. I miss America with every ounce of myself, every part of my inner and outer being. Every hair that falls from my head cries mournfully for not having fallen on home soil. Each tear that drops from my eye regrets its inability to carry me back. How eagerly I stepped onto that plane, ready to leave her, convincing myself that I'd never look back. Still, my purpose for leaving is justified and will remain so, and my reasons for staying away are out of my control, but had I realized how hard I would fight to return, it might have changed my attitude at the leaving. I would probably have taken my flight despite all this, but I think I would have packed differently, or carried with me something of her that one would not normally send in a package. A piece of earth, perhaps, or as one of my students has done, a "bag of air" that during stressful moments can be brought out and inhaled.
America is still there, and one day I will return to her and bring her a gift, for I will not return alone. Because we are tired and poor and wretched and longing to be free, we will come; I to my old home and my husband to discover a new one. We will hold her to her promise, "I will lift my lamp beside the Golden Door" and search for that light that we might find our way home.
From time to time I get an empty longing for my country. I've never had to face this strange feeling which is similar to the feeling of grief over a lost loved one. During my 34 years in America, there was never the thought of what life would be like without her. And I say "her" just as others before have done, because she nursed me and pampered me, but, then I, a spoiled child, ran away from her. It is amazing how when we look back on our years, we see things that were previously unimportant to us grow into the one thing that, had we but known it, gave us breath. I miss her. I miss America with every ounce of myself, every part of my inner and outer being. Every hair that falls from my head cries mournfully for not having fallen on home soil. Each tear that drops from my eye regrets its inability to carry me back. How eagerly I stepped onto that plane, ready to leave her, convincing myself that I'd never look back. Still, my purpose for leaving is justified and will remain so, and my reasons for staying away are out of my control, but had I realized how hard I would fight to return, it might have changed my attitude at the leaving. I would probably have taken my flight despite all this, but I think I would have packed differently, or carried with me something of her that one would not normally send in a package. A piece of earth, perhaps, or as one of my students has done, a "bag of air" that during stressful moments can be brought out and inhaled.
America is still there, and one day I will return to her and bring her a gift, for I will not return alone. Because we are tired and poor and wretched and longing to be free, we will come; I to my old home and my husband to discover a new one. We will hold her to her promise, "I will lift my lamp beside the Golden Door" and search for that light that we might find our way home.
