A guilty conscious is my shadow that never alters or
diminishes in accordance to the ever rotating earth around the sun. Like a looming darkness ever present, my
thoughts are always one step ahead to judge my actions, forming questions in a never
ending battle over what is right or wrong.
In a year of intentional living within another culture, this shadow has
only grown in size as my body never wants to dip a toe into the waters of
ignorance or shame.
Recently I was posed with a terrifying statement: “You can
make your own decision.” With repairs to
the in the original house I am supposed to be living in still underway, the
family I have been living and growing with offered me an invitation to stay with
them for the rest of the year. Bringing
the invitation to my supervisor, she gave me the choice to make my own
decision.
My housing situation this year has been one of the most
challenging experiences that I have had, and an invitation to know where I was
going to live for the rest of the year brought waves of tears in thanks and
comfort. Every gut reaction I could
possibly have inside of me rose to scream yes and unpack my suitcase for the
first time in 6 months.
But of course, that guilty conscious was ever-present and
within seconds I doubted if this was the right decision to make. I’ve currently been commuting an hour each
way to work every morning, creating a division of separation between the
community my students live in versus the community I live in. This is quite a contrast to the intention of
walking in solitude and mutuality.
But it was recently said to me that sometimes the boldest
decision you can ever make is to take care of yourself. I’ve
learned in every psychology class in college that shelter is a basic
fundamental need. Those words in a book
became my reality this year as I’ve physically been in need of shelter while
also emotionally wrestling with the uncertainty of where I could call
home. The invitation came by the
protection from God, in the form of the most giving family I have ever
met. The invitation came, and I realized
that I needed to accept it.
With a gift so selfless I know I’ll never be able to repay,
I can only carry this experience forward in understanding and appreciating the
physical, emotional, and spiritual needs in having a place to call home. When the shadows of guilt start to loom, I
can now feel the sun telling me I am supposed to be exactly where I am.
Welcome Home
p.s. If you’d like to join me in giving thanks to the
Tuckers who has extended their home to me, simply let me know and I’ll send you
our address
