A Warning
Posted on April 8, 2015 by Alyssa Reilly
http://adaughtersjourney.me/2015/04/08/a-warning-2/
To the adventurer, to the wandering soul. To the travel luster and the big dreamer. To the pastoral heart, to the deep lover. To the feeler and the pursuer. To the brave and bold ones, to the sensitive cores. To the travelers and commissioners, to the world lovers and disciplers. To the missionaries and the unordinary, before you leave home, these are some things you should know.
You will leave home, and you will love it.
You will leave home, and you will hate it.
You will travel to amazing places and see amazing things.
You will sit in the dirt, on the floor.
You will sit in filth, in stench, in trash heaps and mud dumps.
You will sit in palaces and on thrones, with dignitaries and kings.
You will sit with the lonely and the broken, the rich and wealthy, and they may be the same person.
You will be blessed beyond compare with the simplest gift.
You will be blessed with wealth and extravagance, with many treasures at your feet.
You will taste the foods of this world and wonder what you ate.
You will see the wonders of the world, and miss the comforts of home.
You will be wrecked for life and love, wrecked for the ordinary.
Too long in one place and your heart will ache for another.
You will always want to travel, yet long for a feeling of home.
You will see world news headlines and think about the people you know there.
You will have many homes, many families and many friends.
You will dream with a map and dance in the stars.
You will never look at social issues the same, for you will see actually faces, actually hearts standing before your eyes.
What really matters in this world will change for you.
You will know what it is to be in two places at the same time.
And you will be misunderstood.
People will see your boldness and mistake it for fearlessness.
They will not see the hours of tears or the process behind the journey.
When you leave, people will move on.
You will move on too.
Home will not be the same, and you will not be the same.
You will grow and they will grow, and that is good, because growth means you’re alive.
You will make incredible friends and not be able to sustain all the relationships you want to.
You will make incredible friends and have relationships that will last a lifetime.
You will miss more people than you ever thought possible.
Some relationships will be strengthened, and some will fade away.
You will be sustained by little reminders that you are seen and known.
The rain, coffee, sunsets and rooftops, will remind you that you are cared for.
You will see lives impacted for eternity because of you.
Your voice will shift nations.
Your hands will heal hearts.
You will see people’s hearts, thoughts and emotions and discover hidden treasure.
You will pour love on dry and hurting souls.
You will impact the homeless and the millionaire, the orphan and the soldier.
You will pour yourself out for others and not feel loved in return.
You will pour yourself out for others and receive the deepest satisfaction in your soul.
You will win some and loose some.
You will make enemies and best friends.
You will forget some things you want to remember and never forget things you wish you could.
You will lie in bed at night wondering if you did things your best, wondering if you gave it your all.
You will not sleep because the bus is too bumpy.
You will sleep sweetly under a blanket of stars.
You will sit with the poor in the dirt and speak to thousands on stages.
You will stand for the voiceless and defenseless.
You will climb the world’s mountains and swim legendary seas.
You will eat delicacies and drink the finest of wines.
You will love, so deeply.
You will hurt after the love, and then you will heal.
And you will love again.
You won’t forget their broken smiles or the way the children played with your hair.
You wont forget the pain in their eyes or the joy of their laugh.
You will miss birthdays and weddings, Christmases and anniversaries.
But you will be celebrated by the world, and will thrive in the joy of new cultures.
You will not be the same.
Some might not understand the pain that has made you so strong or the process to your authority.
But that’s ok, there will always be someone who does.
So here’s to you, adventurer. Here’s to you for heading out the door. Here’s to you for not turning back. Here’s to you for loving again.
Here’s to the rewards that are worth the risk. Here’s to the dreams realized and desires fulfilled. Here’s to full passports and full hearts. Here’s to knowing why you are alive and what moves your feet. Here’s to standing your ground and not giving in to fear.
Here’s to the wanderer, the lover, the pastor, the dreamer, the injustice fighter and the feeler.
Here’s to you.
And here’s to me.
To the adventurer, to the wandering soul. To the travel luster and the big dreamer. To the pastoral heart, to the deep lover. To the feeler and the pursuer. To the brave and bold ones, to the sensitive cores. To the travelers and commissioners, to the world lovers and disciplers. To the missionaries and the unordinary, before you leave home, these are some things you should know.
You will leave home, and you will love it.
You will leave home, and you will hate it.
You will travel to amazing places and see amazing things.
You will sit in the dirt, on the floor.
You will sit in filth, in stench, in trash heaps and mud dumps.
You will sit in palaces and on thrones, with dignitaries and kings.
You will sit with the lonely and the broken, the rich and wealthy, and they may be the same person.
You will be blessed beyond compare with the simplest gift.
You will be blessed with wealth and extravagance, with many treasures at your feet.
You will taste the foods of this world and wonder what you ate.
You will see the wonders of the world, and miss the comforts of home.
You will be wrecked for life and love, wrecked for the ordinary.
Too long in one place and your heart will ache for another.
You will always want to travel, yet long for a feeling of home.
You will see world news headlines and think about the people you know there.
You will have many homes, many families and many friends.
You will dream with a map and dance in the stars.
You will never look at social issues the same, for you will see actually faces, actually hearts standing before your eyes.
What really matters in this world will change for you.
You will know what it is to be in two places at the same time.
And you will be misunderstood.
People will see your boldness and mistake it for fearlessness.
They will not see the hours of tears or the process behind the journey.
When you leave, people will move on.
You will move on too.
Home will not be the same, and you will not be the same.
You will grow and they will grow, and that is good, because growth means you’re alive.
You will make incredible friends and not be able to sustain all the relationships you want to.
You will make incredible friends and have relationships that will last a lifetime.
You will miss more people than you ever thought possible.
Some relationships will be strengthened, and some will fade away.
You will be sustained by little reminders that you are seen and known.
The rain, coffee, sunsets and rooftops, will remind you that you are cared for.
You will see lives impacted for eternity because of you.
Your voice will shift nations.
Your hands will heal hearts.
You will see people’s hearts, thoughts and emotions and discover hidden treasure.
You will pour love on dry and hurting souls.
You will impact the homeless and the millionaire, the orphan and the soldier.
You will pour yourself out for others and not feel loved in return.
You will pour yourself out for others and receive the deepest satisfaction in your soul.
You will win some and loose some.
You will make enemies and best friends.
You will forget some things you want to remember and never forget things you wish you could.
You will lie in bed at night wondering if you did things your best, wondering if you gave it your all.
You will not sleep because the bus is too bumpy.
You will sleep sweetly under a blanket of stars.
You will sit with the poor in the dirt and speak to thousands on stages.
You will stand for the voiceless and defenseless.
You will climb the world’s mountains and swim legendary seas.
You will eat delicacies and drink the finest of wines.
You will love, so deeply.
You will hurt after the love, and then you will heal.
And you will love again.
You won’t forget their broken smiles or the way the children played with your hair.
You wont forget the pain in their eyes or the joy of their laugh.
You will miss birthdays and weddings, Christmases and anniversaries.
But you will be celebrated by the world, and will thrive in the joy of new cultures.
You will not be the same.
Some might not understand the pain that has made you so strong or the process to your authority.
But that’s ok, there will always be someone who does.
So here’s to you, adventurer. Here’s to you for heading out the door. Here’s to you for not turning back. Here’s to you for loving again.
Here’s to the rewards that are worth the risk. Here’s to the dreams realized and desires fulfilled. Here’s to full passports and full hearts. Here’s to knowing why you are alive and what moves your feet. Here’s to standing your ground and not giving in to fear.
Here’s to the wanderer, the lover, the pastor, the dreamer, the injustice fighter and the feeler.
Here’s to you.
And here’s to me.
_______________
I found this poem today. And while it has been 3, almost 4 years since my trip to Russia, and I have not left the country again, it still resonates. I have come home, and processed, and pondered, and found jobs--sometimes ones obtained just to pay the bills, and gone back to graduate school, and soon I will be starting my first real adult job--one with a salary and benefits and job security. And it is one I am so pleased to have found. One that uses all of who I am--my brain and my heart.
I have been on journeys since then. I am eager for the journey that lies ahead. Because I know that I don't know where the road leads, and while I may panic when I cannot see around the bend, I know that the journey is always worth it.
But I have not forgotten Russia. It will always be there, and it will always be a part of my story. I will always have the receipt on which I took notes while speaking on the phone to the recruiter. I hope to always remember Camp Yantar when I put on my bracelet. I hope to never forget the lilt of her voice, and I hope the people I loved there will always know that I loved them, and that the time and the distance does not change that.
I am grateful for this poem that reminds me that it is okay both to remember and to forget.
