The story of Detroit airport/returning home - day 2

I woke up at 3.. and I woke up again at 5. Someone was working on a roof all night. I got an early breakfast from Starbucks..around 5:30.

A middle aged lady was flirting loudly with an even older man right in front of me, while I was trying to read my one year bible.. distracting, and a little too early for that, I thought!?
I mean ..in my mind I was thinking I could flirt to the guy at Starbucks to get free drinks..since I would be staying at the same spot for possibly 30 hours.. surely he'd find mercy.. but I was only joking about that.
- Clearly other ladies go for that hobby to kill time, even though they just woke up, with their hair looking like dead bugs in a pile.

I keep interrupting my writing because I keep praying to get home. I won't dare to unfold my hands.. which makes it kind of difficult to type!

This morning I also had the opportunity to take a 'shower' the best I could in the bathroom.
Then I checked the boards for the flights to NYC.
- Last night all flights to NYC had been cancelled. 95% of all the cancels from this airport, I was told yesterday.
It should be fine in the morning, I thought yesterday.. but this morning I woke up to another board of cancelled flights to NYC. Only a few of them seemed to depart today. And I was afraid that the rest of them would be cancelled last minute, just like my original flight yesterday. Wait yesterday right?.. yes I am right, it was yesterday night. No. Afternoon. Early afternoon. Came to the airport around 2 pm. Got it.. as you can hear I am loosing my understanding of time;)
All that matters now is getting on a flight back home. That's how time gets by.. waiting for an open seat.

*

Funny.. I thought the story of Detroit airport would be longer today.. whispering "Please get me home!" about a hundred times, walking to gate A25 this morning, to try to get a seat for this morning's first flight to New York..
I was put on standby, and thought it meant standby for the day.. I'd already gotten a ticket for tonight at 9:30, so I thought that fact wouldn't give me an earlier flight.
.. but within 15 minutes I was given a boarding pass to this 7:15 flight.

It seemed kind of surreal, because I was prepared for the disappointment of not getting on any of the 4 flights this morning.. just dragging myself and my 2 heavy bags back to my homey spot by Starbucks, in the sofa.. preparing myself mentally to spend another 15 hours of waiting.

So many things I'd planned on my list 'What to do in the airport, to make time fly'.. like finishing my book. I won't have time for that when I get back. So I don't know when I'll ever finish it.
So ironic this seems now!
Getting home on an earlier flight is better than anything, of course.

- And in fact I was so overwhelmed by the whole blessing of this anecdote, that when I was about to take out my book to read, I decided I wasn't in the mood, because I just wanted to say how thankful I was over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again in my head.
All I felt like doing was sitting there in peace with my hands folded in my lap, just thanking God. I truly didn't understand what had happened, suddenly understanding how much a seat on a plane to NY was worth.. knowing the distance if there was no plane for me. But this anecdote was God's work, no doubt in that.
No doubt.
Just another proof of how amazing God works in our lives.
He keeps doing things that I didn't think would work out. I sometimes forget he's always there, and always wants the best for me.
Let me never take this for granted.

*

When I came back home I felt home sick for the first time (since the first day of my new adventure).
I guess I felt at home here in many ways. .. walking through Manhattan, I saw the beauty of so many things I forget to see during the busy weekdays.
And having been in the middle of nowhere all through the holiday, I was thankful to come home to the city - which is where I feel most at home, when I am not off to recharge.
It was good to be back.

But returning to my room felt so empty, and I got homesick because there was no one there. Eating in an almost empty dining room with no one I knew..
I got homesick, because I missed people. The people I love and who love me.
I miss you so much.

But after thinking and crying through most of the day, I came to realize something:

That I always hated the feeling of returning home, back in the apartment in Copenhagen with the 6 other members of my family. I LOVE being surrounded by my family again, the people I love & the people who love me. But HATE returning home from travelling out in the world.

I am not sure it makes sense to you? (I sometimes forget I have numerous readers.. and not just keep a private journal, where I pour out every word of my heart..)
What my feelings say is that I would hate coming home before, because I felt that I came back to the usual, safe nest - where nothing is new and everything seems predicted, because nothing is risked.

But coming home here - to Manhattan.. so many things are still new, everything is risked, nothing is safe, if I open my eyes for it NOTHING is the usual in NYC.
I AM 'out in the world', travelling and seeing new things.. that's what I wanted. That's what I missed before.

Ironically, now my heart is breaking because I miss the opposite. I miss returning to the safe people. The people who I love and the ones who love me, in a way that I felt back home.
- even more ironically I think God was trying to emphasize that for me, and remind me of how I was seeking the opposite & got the opposite! - because all through the Saturday it was almost as if all of my closest friends form the Markle residence were nowhere to be found.. my neighbor Jessica wasn't home, and the few other people who I thought I spoke well with before didn't seem to take notice of me. It was like no one cared I had returned. At all.

I can't have it all, I have realized. Even though I am homesick - I don't actually want to return home. Yeicks! not at all... I know what it would feel like to go back to the safe boarders of my life, being by the usual surroundings, instead of taking advantage of what else is found in the rest of the world. I don't want that.

Funny sometimes.. how things in life can seem ironic.. just so God can make a point.

I guess not having those people who love me unconditionally makes me seek people and just .. the world.. more.

And I believe that these are the type of things that make me stronger and braver in life.
.. I mean travelling to the other side of the world as 19 to find my heart's desire.. that's pretty big and brave, I think.
Not everyone would do that.
I know everyone from my class back home, with a total of 30, thought of me as being insanely brave for doing this. They said they couldn't do it..
For final prizes in our class, nominated by every student in the class, I won the prize as 'the fighter'. They all saw me as someone who works her ass ('scuse my french) off for reaching her goals, never giving up.
.. Well, of course!, I just replied to them. Why wouldn't anyone do that?

Some people don't. But I pray they will. I know that many in my network look up to me for that. Many in my family say.. "If you find something difficult, if you don't know how to work for something.. ask your sister/cousin/niece/granddaughter what she does."
That makes me proud. So proud, especially because I wouldn't place myself in that category.. hmm I don't know. I think you always think are less strong than you really are.

I sure do miss you back home.
But as you know I have never been able to settle in one home for long!
- Just know that in my heart you will always be there; it will always be the same people who are truly my home.

This irony of the homesickness makes it all seem a little less heavier, I must say.
It's funny.. I still look out of my window on 13th street not knowing what all of it in front of me is, not knowing what I want from it, not feeling at home completely.

*

.. So, maybe I lied a little. I said that I felt at home here.
When I was away on holiday with the Bartz family, one night I was asked.. "so Jasmin, if someone asks you where home is for you, what do you say?".
I honestly replied "Home is where there is love.
I have a home everywhere in the world I've been."

But at that point, I could just as well have said "What is home really?". I don't think I understand the term like that... why is it important for people to know where my home is, where I'm from?
I always want to say "My home is the world".. but when I've said it people have either laughed in my face, waiting for a 'serious' answer, or needed me to repeat it again, trying to understand my reply.

But
Home is where the heart is, as I've said earlier repeatedly. I think I'll just stick to that. 'Just';)
Maybe that why I struggle with the term at the moment.. because I'm not sure where my heart is, where God is leading me to be.

Just listen.
With the heart.
"Open the eyes of my heart, Lord" - This is what we sang this morning at the Sunday meeting :)

Bless you all

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