366 days. 8784 hours. 527040 minutes. 31,622,400 seconds. That’s a rough estimate of how long I’ve been gone from the place I called home for a year. It’s now roughly 9,333 miles away from me.
I can recall all of the events that happened prior to me loading my luggage into the back of a CRV and making my way to the capital to fly home. One last sleepover with the kids in the media room at the school. The girls up front. The boys in the back. Cleaning my place and getting the last bit of my stuff packed. Breakfast with my friends and their sweet son. Taking my little brothers and little sisters for one more round of beverages. Some of us getting ice lime tea. Some getting sting with milk- sting being an energy drink. As we left the shop, Bong S said “see you tomorrow” which was something I had told her everyday for the last 4 months. That’s when the tears started to form and reality was kind of sinking in that I was leaving and would in fact not see her tomorrow.
I took a ridiculous amount of pictures with the my little brothers and sisters before saying our goodbyes. There were tears. There were hugs. There were I love you’s exchanged. I got in the car, and took one last look at the 6 kids who started the year as strangers and became the little brothers and sisters I didn’t know I needed.
Some time was spent in the mall before being dropped at the airport. We had Korean food for dinner, and I got one last Chocolate Frappe from Cafe Amazon. Former students who lived in the capital came to see me off. Once again, there were more hugs, tears, and I love you’s. The group as a whole prayed for me, and then took me to the airport to begin the long trip home.
I remember arriving at my home airport. I was one of the last people off the plane. Not because I had to be, but because anxiety was coursing through my body. I knew that once I got off the plane and saw the people waiting for me, that the reality of the last 36 hours would truly sink in for me. I wasn’t back in America for a quick visit. I was back in America for a season of preparation to go for the long haul and who knows how long this season would last. I’ve enjoyed my time with family and friends. I’ve enjoyed being able to attend weekly worship services in a language I completely understand. I’ve enjoyed being back in the place I’ve called home for the majority of my life, but if I’m honest, I miss my home overseas. Sometimes I miss it more than I really realize.
I miss the sights. I miss the sounds. I miss the smells- good and bad. I miss the dogs that would bark at me as I walked wherever I was going. I miss the village kids yelling at me and asking if I was French and where I was going. I miss the random people riding up to me on their moto trying to give me a ride. I miss my usual vendors at the market. My language skills were terrible, but relationships were built. I miss my students. I miss my brothers and sisters. I miss the pork, egg, and rice I ate for breakfast- America, we do breakfast wrong. I miss weekends in Bong’s kitchen learning how to cook and practicing my Khmer. I just miss it all. I think the only things I don’t miss are the parasites and staph infections. One of the things I miss most though, is students asking questions about God. I miss seeing the excitement and or confusion as I would share the gospel and they were trying to process what they were hearing. I miss my first class of students arguing over which worship song we would sing that night. I don’t think they really understood the lyrics that we were singing, but my hope and prayer is one day, they’ll understand what it means to be free in Christ and they will understand that He and He alone is worthy of our worship.
When I left the US in 2023 to begin my year overseas, in my mind, I had an idea of what it would look like. What I would do. How many people I would tell about Jesus. My “vision” for the year was the best thing- or so I thought. In reality, my year didn’t look much like I expected. Sure, I taught a lot of English which I knew I’d do. I did ministry in a village on Sundays. But the year the Lord had for me in SE Asia was far greater than I could have ever imagined.
Lots of soccer games in the rain. Lots of guitar lessons- I would not recommend anyone teach a group guitar lesson of 8 people with only 2 guitars. I played a lot of games that I don’t know the names or the rules of so I’m pretty sure my students took advantage of me, but the pure joy and excitement on their faces as I played with them was enough for me. I sang and danced to a seeds family worship song more than I ever have in the States. I had secret handshakes galore which really stopped being secret at some point. I had a fake son who could tell you who made him, who loves him, and who wants to be his forever friend. The answers to those questions are God, and God and Teacher for the last who statement.
I went overseas with the intent of teaching students and “leaving my mark”, because whether or not we like to admit it, we do want to be remembered- we want to leave our mark wherever we go. We don’t want to be just some random person in a story. I think that country, it’s people, and the students I interacted with, made their mark on me. Because of my year overseas, I’m a better teacher. I’m more empathetic. I’m more compassionate. I truly understand what it means to love the little children and give grace upon grace upon grace. I know and love the Lord more because He is the reason I made it the year. He sustained and supplied for me. Because of my time there, I am kinder. I have a totally different world view and while I already had a desire to have a life different than the American dream, my year overseas just reinforced it. I was given one life. It’s one life that I get to live for Christ. I want to use that life making His name known great among people who don’t know Him.
While the prospect of returning overseas is exciting, I wish I was there now. I’m constantly reminding myself that His ways are higher than my own. His plans are better than mine. His timing is perfect. When it’s time to go again, He will make it clear. He will prepare the way for me to go. Until then, I’ll keep looking at plane tickets and then my bank account to see if I can buy a ticket for a quick visit back. I’ll keep doing the things to prepare myself for a life of going. I’ll keep looking for ways to share the gospel here and be intentional in the relationships I have in front of me. I’m confident I’ll see you again, SE Asia.
Grief. Going. Healing. 
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