The sun was setting, casting blues, purples, pinks, and yellows across the sky. The play of the colors on the water held my attention as we drove along the coast. The beauty of the moment was the perfect backdrop for my first moto ride in Vietnam.
After being stateside for over two years, I was in another country exploring new cultures, and it was breathtaking.
We drove by as fishermen were setting out to sea for a night of fishing in their long boats. Kids were playing, running across the path ahead. The smells of food collided with the salty smell of the ocean.
Although I’d never been to Asia, memories of other overseas experiences flooded my mind as I gripped the back of the motorbike. I thought about eating frites from a street cart in Paris, drinking ataya tea in West Africa, ordering Pizza Perfect in South Africa.
My heart paused, and I looked around. I thought about the palm trees, bourgainvillea, and tropical fruit—how much it all reminded me of the sights and smells of Africa. Yet, it wasn’t the same at all.
The driver expertly navigated the bumps and turns of the road while tears slipped under my sunglasses and dripped down my face. I felt silly for crying yet thankful to be feeling all the things.
I cried for the amazement of being there and how challenging it had been to make an overseas trip after such a great, personal loss. I mourned a life that I didn’t know would end the way it did. Tears kept falling as I processed and prayed through all that had happened.
Obviously, I was not yet over the hardships that I’d been through or the difficulty of rebuilding something completely unexpected and new.
But, somehow, the experience was healing the part of me that had been lamenting.
With the wind whipping past my helmet, I was alone with my thoughts and the feelings stirring my soul. In an explosion of emotions, I felt deeply sad, full of anger, and incredibly happy at the same time. I loved the thrill of this once-in-a-lifetime ride while also grieving places and people I’d never see again.
The sky kept changing colors as we drove. It was almost like the shifting hues sensed my shifting emotions. I felt pain and thankfulness, joy and anger, loss and hope. I was hoping no one would notice my crazy emotions, but the mascara under my eyes told the story.
So many big emotions competed for my attention, but there wasn’t time to process. I would journal it all later, letting Jesus speak to the intensity of each feeling.
In that single ride, I held the juxtaposition of a life overseas and work that I love with the reality of my story that now includes great hurt, harm, brokenness, and abrupt endings.
A few years earlier, when I landed back in the States, I didn’t know it would be the last time that I got on an international flight without a return ticket. I didn’t plan or prepare for the possibility that I would be settling into life in my home state, in a town I’d never lived in, starting over in every way.
After going through such a rough re-entry with the loss of network, loss of friends, and loss of support, it was beyond a blessing to be processing from such a precious vantage point.
God was doing something new in my heart. I was on a short trip, my first in a long time, and it was exactly what my heart needed to do.
I was drinking egg foam coffee and eating Vietnamese food. I was working with an interpreter to teach a lesson while barefoot. I loved it all.
Emotions and feelings and thoughts that had been laid down were coming alive, and things that had been lost were found.
I reengaged the part of me that missed life overseas and remembered how much I had poured into those years. From writing and language learning and fundraising all the way through paperwork and culture shock, I grieved the loss while holding the blessings.
Looking back over that motorbike ride, I’m thankful that I could be there and grateful for the emotional ride along the South China Sea.
I’m thankful for friends, new and old, who’ve walked with me through leaving, through re-entry, through rediscovering a love for overseas work.
I’m thankful for the fresh overseas experience and for how I can still participate in it with all of you. I love what I’m doing through life coaching, writing here at A Life Overseas and at Global Trellis, supporting those still living on faraway continents in faraway places.
Re-entry isn’t the end. Wherever we live, whichever side of the ocean, we get to participate in Kingdom life right where we are, right in this moment. The experiences, memories, feelings, and growth moments are all valuable parts of our story. Somehow God weaves it all into something that might be different than we expected—but something that is constructive and meaningful.
