I once was lost

I stepped off the plane and into the waiting arms of Familiarity.  She pulled me closer, and held me tight like an old friend.  I relaxed in her embrace as I heard her whisper, "I know who you are, and I've missed you."  It had been a long time since I felt known and accepted by my surroundings, and it felt good.  I wondered though if she could see the parts of me that went missing; broken off and left behind.  I've not had the clarity of mind to take inventory, but I feel the loss.

It has been six weeks since our return to the United States.  I was warned of reverse culture shock, but after the first few days of delightful air conditioning and easy access to my favorite foods, I believed a year away wasn't long enough to affect me.  But days passed, along with the initial surge of busyness, and I watched how the whole world could grow quiet enough for my heart to cry, "I'm completely lost."

The kindest of faces ask like they already know the reply, "Are you glad to be back?"  The answer I want to give is so much bigger than anyone has time for.  Yes, I'm glad to be so close to my family, but I ache for my friends who loved me through a tough year. Yes, I'm glad to be able to drive without having a panic attack, but I kind of miss the moto taxis.  Yes, I'm glad to go to the pharmacy and not have to look up the words I'll need to communicate, but now I never get to use my hard earned Spanish.  Yes, I'm glad I don't have to worry who is and isn't going to donate each month, but being so dependent on God strengthened my faith.  Yes, I'm looking forward to the seasons changing, but I'll miss being able to go to the beach year round.  Yes, I'm elated to spend the day in air conditioning, but it seems a poor replacement for a dream that has cost so much and ended so soon.

Nicaragua was never about an overseas adventure.  It was never about what the Mohr's could do for people living in poverty.  It was never about a search for life fulfillment or meaning.  It has always been about God and his delight in obedience.  He asks, we answer yes or no. He opens doors, we walk through them or we don't.  His providence orchestrates lives and people with their dreams and purposes all unimaginably linked to on one another in intricate design for the purpose of bringing glory to his name.  I know, I know that God, in His goodness, invited our family to go to Nicaragua.  And I also know, in His mercy, He asked us to walk away.

It was hard to go.  It was hard to stay.  It was hard to leave.

I find myself in this place of deeply felt gratefulness; humbled, unworthy of the beauty I bear witness to.  Jesus Christ, his life of sacrifice revealed anew.  I feel his wounds of rejection as he walks me along this road of suffering. The question of home has become unanswerable.  The question of belonging no longer applies to this world.

And yet I keep asking.  Where do I belong?

I hear Amazing Grace playing on the radio, but my mind stays focused on one line of the first verse, "I once was lost, but now I'm found."  I want to sing it like I mean it, like I know how it feels to live it every day.

"God, I know you see me, show me how to live like I've been found."


  1. I can't imagine how difficult your transition has been. A piece of your heart will always be in Nicaragua, and that's a good thing. You will never forget the beauty of sacrifice, faith, and obedience, nor will your children. I will continue to pray for you, Ginger.


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