We Gotta Burn That Fire or We’ll Just Burn Out.

here it is, I'm sure – the blog everyone has been waiting for.

my very last one.

i know, its about time, but i couldn't do it. i sat down so many times to try, praying for God to give me the words to say, but each time I just choked up, my cheeks red, my fingers shaking, my eyes streaming silent tears to essence my broken heart.

writing this means I'm done. I'm home. it's finished. the longer i procrastinated writing this, the longer i didn't have to face the brutal reality of life and start writing on a fresh, new page in the journal of my adventures.

but the truth is – i'm home. i'm in America. and as much as i dont like to face that, let's be real. I'm David, and good ol Merica is Goliath. there's just no way for me to get around it anymore. i mean… being at camp with Greg and Andrew? eating dinner with the Kades? java on main with Katelyn and Burt? late nights with Katie, Leah, Jamie and Emma? Owowcow with Nicole? trolling the alpaca farm with the sister, co-existing with my silent brother, having lunch with my dad, and grocery shopping with Yungcah? i can't avoid it anymore. i'm here. it's real.

and my bare feet are terribly out of place.

you know, i can't decide if i feel like i've been gone for a week, or five years. Harleysville is the same as its ever been, but i'm not. i'm blatantly, obviously, unavoidably not the same. just… different.

bittersweet is a good way to describe how it is.

tragically beautiful.

It’s just… the excess. complacency. the stuff. i'm so blessed and i feel mad guilty about it. my heart breaks and weeps for Africa every day. and there are two options – break down and cry, all day, or shut myself off and become what i hate.

I see things here and my heart dies on so many levels – I see an ambulance and I automatically feel panicked and start praying for that person, and then think about the lack of healthcare in other places. its like… being dazed and confused. I don't know how to feel, or what’s really going on at all.

Narnia, to go back to an old analogy. I just went and experienced the Lord in this crazy way, and He wrecked me. and I’m thrown back into my old life, and nothing’s changed, but I have.

it's like trying to shove together two pieces of a puzzle that don't match.

it's so weird.

it's so hard.

I feel like I have nobody, but at the same time I’m suffocated by thousands of people. I want to share the stories i've been entrusted, but I choke on my words, so torn with desperation for what I miss and joy to be with my family. I hang out with old friends, and its good to see them, and my love for them will never change, but I feel uncomfortable, judged sometimes, put on a pedestal in other times. and i start to question who i am, exactly, and if i'll ever really belong anywhere.

Someone will get mad in a store, at something like them not having their exact brand, and all I can think of is crippled old Agogo getting to her feet to hold my hand and walk with me to the end of the road my last day in Malawi. I crave to read the bible, and when I sit down with it, I can’t focus. My heart yearns for the Lord, but i feel suffocated by a place that doesn't really need Him. I take a hot shower and it feels so good, and then 10 minutes later I feel so filthy for all the water I’ve wasted. I can’t not clear every speck on my plate, and internally I freak out over all the wasted food, even if its particles, on other peoples plates. I barely ever answer my phone or anyone’s texts unless its someone from my squad, which then it hurts so much to read.

in Africa, we had nothing. there was nothing to do. but we always found SOMETHING. and here, there’s so many options but not one of them is fulfilling. because I don't have to be creative anymore? because i actually have a choice? I don't know. i honestly don't know what it is.

but i do know my heart doesn't belong here.

it hurts.

I cry all the time.

I’m exhausted.

I’m tired of doctors appointments and the dentist and eye doctor and the orthodontist and people freaking out about my lice.

its like it never happened, but it did.

i know it happened, because ive seen the pictures.

those are actually me, right?

did i take those?

those beautiful people are the best friends i've ever had?

I put on my old clothes and I’m so excited, and its so good to finally have an option, and look and be clean, and then 10 minutes later I’m scrubbing my makeup off and putting on the same mangy clothes I’ve worn for the past 9 months.

its surreal.

I keep praying that the Lord calms my spirit, but I almost don't want Him to. i dont want to fit into the mold. i dont want to ever go back to who i was before, or be the same as everyone else. i was not called to fit into society, no matter what society looks like.

people would say to me "you lived here for 19 years, it should be easy to transition home." and I just wanted to scream "you don't understand! when the Lord absolutely wrecks your heart, you cant just go back. you don't look at anything the same. YOU don’t look the same. you never will."

people still say to me "how was your trip? were you changed? do you feel like you have a different perspective?" and i just want to be ignorant and respond "why would you ask me that? isn't it obvious? how do i encompass the past 9 months of my life, not just 'a trip' into a 30 second answer?" and i want to tell them everything, and i know that they genuinely care about me and that’s why they asked, but i also know sometimes they don't really want to hear what i have to say. because its long, and heartbreaking, and more to me than words could ever express.  because itll hurt, and call people out, and up, and most people just want to hear "Amazing! i loved it!" and go back to their business.

people ask me "how are you!? how is it being home?" and i want to be like "IT SUCKS. SO BADLY. BUT I LOVE MY FAMILY. AND I ATE HUMMUS EVERY DAY SO FAR. SO ITS OK." and ramble on and cry about how I'm not actually ok. but in reality, i generally give people a sad smile, and lie. "I'm good. I'm good." and that's sufficient.

The Lord told me the other day "Caitlinn, don't forget what you've learned."
and i was stumped, angry almost. "what do You mean, God? what have i forgotten?"
"to be able to show My love to the people around you, you have to fit in with their lifestyle. in Africa, that looked like long skirts and pounds of water on your back. and that was beautiful, because I called you there. but I've called you back here, too. and I'm telling you. Put your skinny jeans and red lipstick back on, and burn with the unquenchable fire I've set in you. Remember – you're not just dry bones."
"I am but dust and ashes."
"I've appointed you. Chosen YOU."
"But. why?"
"i dont call the equipped, I equip the called."

And so here i am.

Chosen, appointed, called. Hand selected, handmade. Beautifully broken, tragically whole. barefooted, brokenhearted, dirty, clean and joyful all at once.

And i wont be satisfied til the earth looks just like Heaven.

 

And it gets lonely when you live out loud,
When the truth that you seek isn't in this crowd.
You better find your voice, better make it loud.
We've gotta burn that fire or we'll just burn out.