Finding Home in Two Skies
Homesickness is like the waves;
sometimes it washes over us in normal patterns like the ocean tides or even the tides of the Great Lakes. Other times it slams us like a tsunami.
I'm not sure if this particular experience was rhythmic and predictable or more of a giant wave from a storm or earthquake. However, by the time I sat on that dock just off Telunas Beach in the South China Sea, homesickness had become a constant companion. It was April 2006, and we had been in Thailand for just over four months. It was already time to renew our visas, which meant that we had to leave the country to accomplish that governmentally required, cumbersome, and tedious task. Indonesia seemed like a "good as any place else" kind of place to go... after all it was "spring break" and it was relatively inexpensive and nearby. Thailand wasn't home yet, but it was where we laid our heads each night. In July 2002 we left Indiana and moved to Australia. In December 2004 we left Australia with the intention of moving to Thailand in August 2005. Our planned move to Thailand was delayed several months because of something big and life changing that occurred in Indiana and has a story all of its own.
As a young American Hoosier girl "growing up in the Heartland", I had always oriented my place in the universe with cornfields, maple trees, morel mushrooms in May, the Big Dipper in the night sky, and the friends and family that had known me since I was born. When we moved to Australia, I was no longer a young girl; I was an adult... married, and mother of four kids under 12. The orienting that was written in my soul and known by my mind and body from the Northern Hemisphere's seasons, patterns, constellations, and people who knew me wasn't anywhere to be found. I felt disoriented in the deepest part of my being and at every unanticipated new bend in the road. That feeling never left, but, gradually, I adjusted to the newness of the incessant ping of the Bell birds, the ever-present fragrant eucalyptus trees, grape harvests in March, winter in June, Christmas in summer, The Southern Cross in the night sky, and the new friends who became family in a way I didn't know was possible. So much so, that when we moved away from Australia, the stretching, that felt like ripping, of my heart was strangely and sadly familiar. I had to trust that the added stretch marks on my heart would not destroy me anymore than the stretch marks on my abdomen...after the births of my dearly loved children.
The reason for the delayed arrival to Thailand had affected me into my core being. Chiang Mai, Thailand was in a valley surrounded by mountains. It sounds lovely, but my orienteering skills were slipping and I often found myself lost directionally, locationally, and seasonally. Also, February-May in Chiang Mai, the air pollution is routinely and regularly more than one can bear. It had been my first full-season experience with this awful phenomenon and it had intensified my feelings of lostness and homesickness. My emotional tank was nearly empty as I sat alone under the quietness and stillness of the dark night sky on that long, brown, straight, dock stretching into the South China Sea. NOW, I was missing all that I knew and loved back home in Indiana, AND all that I had learned to love in Melbourne, Australia.
In the stillness on the dock, tears began to tumble down my cheeks and I found myself quietly calling out to the Maker of the seas, stars, plants, animals, people... everyone who knew me... the tsunami of homesickness had made land in my heart again. I wept. After some time, slowly I regained my presence of place; I dried my tears; I breathed; I looked out. In that moment of looking, far out in front of me beyond the end of the dock, my eyes settled on the constellation of The Southern Cross. I was shaken by my awakened observation; it had not occurred to me that it was possible to see The Southern Cross in Indonesia. I sat in awe as I absorbed the realization of my place on the earth in that juncture and how it allowed me to witness something so majestic and so grounding. Again, I breathed, wiped away my new tears, and began to ponder my position on earth more intentionally. Even though I knew in my head that I was in Indonesia, it dawned on me like the sun rises that I was very close to the equator... and perhaps, if The Southern Cross was at one end of the dock, The Big Dipper just might be at the opposite end of the dock...
And that's exactly what happened. The Southern Cross was in front of me and the Big Dipper was behind me. I was amazed by the realization of what had unfolded before me; goosebumps erupted all over my body because of what I could see! I faced North then turned South, and then North again...back and forth... desperately desiring to see both views at the same time... so I could take it all in. I felt seen in my small humanness, and I felt tethered to something far bigger than me.
Fifteen years later, there are occasions when homesickness still laps at the door of my heart from time to time for a plethora of reasons... and sometimes I feel lost or alone like I did before looking beyond the dock in opposite directions, but the memory of that glorious moment has and will always remind me, comfort me, strengthen me and remain with me.