In a moment of weakness I drop my head down on my knees that are pulled tightly into my chest and squeeze my eyes shut. For an instant in time, I'm back in California. I can smell the old familiar smell of my small bedroom, feel the cold wood beneath my feet, hear my moms muffled voice through the wall as she talks on the phone in the other room. Then a voice that isn't familiar reaches my ears, a sound I would have never heard in California, and I open my eyes to a child yelling towards me, jerking me back to reality. She runs to me and I stretch my legs out in front of me to welcome her into my lap. She just sits there, content to be held, and I hold her tight because I miss my own brother who is about her size. The waves beating the shore before us are perfect imagery to my emotions, to my homesickness. It hits with a thundering clap and immobilizes me for just a moment, and then it's swept away, swept out to sea, and everything is calm, and beautiful. The little girl wraps her fingers around my thumb and it's all bearable with this stunning child on my lap. She says something in her language, something that I don't understand, but it doesn't stop me from responding, it doesn't stop us from laughing and playing. She gets up to run to the water and throws her small body into the waves, always popping her head back up to see if I'm still watching, then diving back down. Two more run up, a girl and her younger brother, carrying yellow Jerry Cans to fill with water. They throw the cans on the sand as they run, stripping out of their clothes before their feet touch the water, and within an instant, they're playing in the waves, laughter echoing through the air, back to me. They play for a while before they reluctantly crawl back onto the sand and begin filling the cans.
It's moments like this when I can breath, really breath. Moments like this when I praise the Lord for this call. Moments like this that I laugh at myself for ever feeling homesick. Remembering the words that I heard at the very beginning, I open my journal and begin to write; to record these things so that I can be strengthened when I'm weak, so that I can run forward when I want to run away.
