I can't even help it, every time I miss someone from or something about Paris, I cry. (There should be an understanding that when I say "Paris" I mean my whole experience with YWAM.) I haven't really bothered to attempt to mask it, not that I really do that with emotions anyway...it just needs to be out there. It just rises up from this little spot in the bottom of my tummy; the recesses of what I have taken in (figuratively, of course) the last 8 months, now.
I just passed my two-month mark back at home. I was too busy to remember on the actual day. I've been swimming in busyness. Yes, I spelled that right.
It's weird to actually experience return culture shock. Of course we learned about it, and long before I ever left, people told me about it. Now I live it.
But it's not even really about missing the places, as much as the people and the life style. At least five out of my seven days were devoted to learning about and serving God. At any given time I had access to at least 22 people that could (and probably would, gladly,) pray for me. I gained more best friends, only to have them scattered all over the U.S. and the world! And every time I miss them, the tears set in because I'm scared that I'll never get to see them again.
And I just have to acknowledge it; I can't let myself not, because it's the reality. It's part of the reason all things "Paris" make me cry. It's the main reason.
They always talked about what a particular and special time it was, but I feel like it's something you can't even comprehend til it's over; like return culture shock. Suddenly, here I am, thinking about how special that time was. How blessed I was to have it; Paris, and everything that means to me.
