The last post

Some of you have only had time to pop in here occasionally.  And some of you have been walking with me since August.  Still others among you fall somewhere in-between.  But no matter where you land on this spectrum, I'm grateful to you.  Thank you.

When I began this blog, I did so with modest expectations and an admittedly chirpy intro.  (For goodness' sake, I used footnotes.)

As the months passed, I was continually surprised by how many of you were following me.  As I had expected, this space became a helpful place for me to process all that I was experiencing, especially after the end of October.  (Also, I scrapped the footnotes.)

Today, I write in an attempt to close this chapter with some grace.  A few friends in Galway have actually asked if I plan to continue the blog, because - imagine this - they like my writing.  I have toyed with the idea.  It might be a good way, after all, to keep them in the loop.  And writing is one of the best ways that I process.

On the flip side, the term is about to begin - and a Union trimester, in case you don't know, moves at warp speed.  If I did continue to write, I'd have to be cautious about how much time I'd be spending here.  Perhaps more importantly, I would need to redefine the purpose of this space.

So I'll think about it.  (And if you have any thoughts about this, please do weigh in.)  But as of today, this will be my last post.  So I'd like to offer you the three most important things that I have brought home with me.

1. I may not be as much of a "city kid" as I thought.  New York is home; please don't misunderstand.  But after spending most of my time abroad in the countryside, I'm keenly missing the peace, the stillness.  It was better for me than I expected.
2. I was blessed with an incredibly loving church community - who knew I'd find that many South Asians in Ireland?  And on top of that, I made a few friendships that I'll cherish for the rest of my life.  (Those of you who know me know that I don't make such comments lightly.)
3. I learned to navigate the shoals of grief...3,000 miles away from home.  I've felt more than I imagined I could.  God has tested me in ways that I wouldn't wish upon anyone.  (To be honest, my faith is still on shaky ground...held together with more tape and glue than trust and certainty.)

In August, I felt veritably lukewarm about the idea of going abroad.  Today, I remember that version of myself with faint amusement...because just as I expected, very little of my time in Galway went according to plan.  For a girl like me - one who loves to plan and control and organize and hopefully thwart the unknown - that spells all sorts of discomfort.

Which is just about accurate...for alongside the joys of the past four months, I've been given many reasons to regret having gone abroad.

But here's the crazy truth, my friends: somehow, inexplicably, I don't regret it.

Not for a moment.

The penultimate post

Since I've come home, life - in all of its to-do lists, color-coded schedules, and long-term agendas - has rushed forward to meet me.  In the spring, I'll need to start apartment-hunting.  On June 16, I'll graduate from college.  Two months later, I'll receive my white coat.

But I'll come to those bridges soon enough.  For now, a narrower focus will suffice.

Tomorrow marks two weeks since I arrived.  Two weeks.  And a week from then, I'll be moving back to Schenectady.  This is hard to believe.

For the first time in months, all five of us are under the same roof.  On some days, this has been comforting; on others, abrasive.  But every day, it has been soothingly familiar.  I haven't ventured out much; it's been easier to lay low, to settle into the hallowed hollows I left behind.

I've been trying to seek joy in each day's "small" moments: nursing a morning coffee with my mother, catching my sister's "How I Met Your Mother" references, pretending to be asleep while my dad kisses my head before he goes to work, watching my brother admire the snow...

And five days ago, I muddled my way through the complexity of Christmas.

My sister and me (I'm the one in the lace, obviously) with our grandparents.  Every time I pass this photo in my bedroom, I forget to breathe - again. 

On Christmas morning, I tried to consider things objectively.  My God not only came to Earth in spite of death; He conquered the darn thing.  Whoa.  And as if that weren't enough, He went out with a rather grand promise: that one day, death will be but a memory.  So half of me celebrated all day long, because that made sense.  The other half blew off church and scoffed at the idea of celebrating anything.

These days, death has developed a scary new tendency in me.  Every time I see someone I love, I reflexively ask myself one question...and it never fails to blow my mind.

What would my life be like if you were gone?

Because I'm still in Galway

My bedroom door

Remember when I said I needed some time to be still?  Well, I found it.

My little nook

Whew.  And now I feel able to think a little more clearly.

Homebound, Part III: finally.

On the plane, just after I finished the second post in this series

Hi, friends.  Here's the last part of the story for you...

The rest of the flight went surprisingly smoothly...and I will admit that when I felt the wheels hit the ground, I bounced in my seat like a small child.  "I'm home!" I squealed to my seatmate, a graying old codger who surveyed my glee with obvious amusement.

In hindsight, perhaps having my camera out at Customs and Border Control wasn't the wisest decision...but hey, I was excited.

Because quiet time is precious

There is a little boy curling into my side, breathing soft and slow.  I wonder if he's dreaming of Spiderman.  Spiderman's his latest hero, you know.  How I've missed this...

I'm home...and it's good.  So good.

Homebound, Part II: ready or not...

Hi, friends.  I'm sorry that I've been AWOL for a little while.  Being home has proved to be a greater shock than I anticipated.  I'm going to need some time to process...but in the meantime, here's some reading material.

The plane out of Shannon was tiny - it looked like a baby bush plane.  As I toted my bag across the airstrip, I thought, that thing's really too small to be carrying anyone anywhere.

There's the airport from my window.  And it's hardly visible because of the glare, but directly below those letters is the arrivals corridor where I remember standing in August.

Despite my apprehension, the hour sped by and I soon found myself in Manchester...or, to be more specific, at baggage claims in Manchester.  My bag's checked all the way through, though.  Where am I supposed to go?

Homebound, Part I: camping out in Shannon

It felt a little strange to turn in my apartment key.

My bedroom for the past four months, stripped bare.

I spent my last few hours in the apartment writing some letters...

...but had to put that on hold when my friends came round to pick me up.

This is a quiet airport, friends.  It's literally me, three security guards, and the lanky guy napping at the departures desk.

To my Galway family

I love these two...but they're a little camera-shy.

I just posted this to the Calvary Galway Facebook page so that all of my friends could read it, but thought I might include it here so the rest of you can have a peek.  For those of you who pray, would you consider praying for this church community?  If for no other reason, please lift them up in gratitude because they've taken such good care of me over the past few months.  (Here's the website, if you'd like to check it out.)

To my dear Galway family:

Oh, gosh...I'm crying already :P

Business first: I'm leaving for Shannon around 6 pm tonight with M and R, and will hang out there until my first flight (to Manchester) leaves at 7 am tomorrow. I'll have two hours there and then it's 8 more to JFK...so if all goes well, I'll be in New York by 1:40 pm on Sunday (6:40 pm Galway time).

Now that that's out of the way...look, you all know by now that I like to write. And usually, I can find words. But in this case, words really aren't enough. Still, let me try...

Because my family's the bestest family

A few hours ago, I said goodbye to two friends who have become family.  Wow.  I thought I'd never have a reason to want to return to Galway...and then I met these two.  I'm going to miss them more than they know.

And then there's the whole community-family to which they introduced me.  Check this out: upon hearing that I needed a ride to the bus station, two (other) friends offered to drive me...all the way to Shannon.  Now, my flight leaves at 7 am...which means that they've offered to leave here at 2:30 am to get there by 4 am.  And then they're going to drive all the way back.  This, friends, is friendship, service, love...and it's crazy, but it's also true.

Because I found these as I was packing

It caught me off-guard, this little postcard.  I was holding a pair of pants, mid-fold...and had to stop and remember.

I bought this for you at Clonmacnoise, a monastery I saw on my trip to Dublin.  It's a Celtic cross; there are lots of them here, especially at the monasteries.  You'd appreciate the way the stories have all been carved in...so that anyone might see and understand.

After the trip, I tucked your postcard away, resolving to write the letter later so I could give it the proper attention.  I had the words already, though...words about Galway and being this far from Mum and my friends here and what I've learned to cook and med school classes and how I miss you, I miss you.

I was going to send it.  Would that still be appropriate?