I Think I Need to Go Home.....


Let me be clear about something. I wanted to come here. I wanted to live overseas. I prayed....or rather, begged.... that God would give us orders to Germany or Japan or England, or any place that didn't include the words "little" and "rock" in its name. I want to make that perfectly clear so that when you read the next few paragraphs where I whine and moan over everything that I absolutely hate about living here, you'll understand that it's just a phase. I will overcome. I will get better. I will survive.

The main problem here is that I haven't been home in over a year. For any of you who know me, you will know how that is killing me. Family is everything to me. I am extremely close to both parents, my brother and his wife, not to mention a gorgeous neice who is about 18 months old and transforming into a young lady before my very eyes (via e-mail, of course). She is walking, talking, clapping her hands, playing in the swimming pool....all the things you'd expect a toddler to do. When I left her, she was sleeping and pooping. See what I'm missing?

My father, a Baptist minister, took a job at a new church in March. I have yet to meet any of his church members, or even see a picture of his new church. In the past year, my parents have removed a huge tree from their backyard, added on to their patio, rearranged furniture and hung new pictures. I've missed all of it.

I know that people back home take it for granted, but I'd give my right arm to go shopping at Walmart.

I think Sunday was the breaking point for me. As we were driving to church (of course, because don't all the bad things happen on your way to church???), this German guy came screaming up on my butt, driving like a madman (which is the only way Germans know how to drive), yelling at me and motioning for me to get over. This is a huge pet peeve of mine, tailgating, and I'm pretty sure it was the Germans who invented this, so I did what any good American would do: I tapped my breaks and slowed down to about 30 km/hr, which is about 18 miles per hour. Translation: really, really slow.  The whole time I was sobbing and yelling, "I hate these people! I hate this country! I want to go home!"

So that was my low point. I've managed to pull myself together, but the emptiness lingers just the same. I miss my family. I miss my friends. I miss Outback. I miss Wendy's. And no matter how much I love Germany; no matter how much I love the travel; no matter how thankful I am for the experience, sometimes a girl just needs the comforts of home.