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The small man ahead of me in line crossed his arms sending a ripple over prominent shoulder muscles under a skin-tight t-shirt.  His head was shaved, and starting somewhere beneath the collar of his shirt, a long colorful tattoo of a skull perched atop a torch expanding over his bald pate.  The skull was tilted back in laughter, and there were red orange flames pouring from its eye sockets and wide open mouth.  It was a masterpiece in ink, and he had several other thoughtfully designed vignettes on his arms and legs all—a response triggered in my brain told me to keep a safe distance from this dangerous human being.  It was our first full day back home, and I was at the rear of a large queue at the license plate division of the North Carolina DMV taking my first feeble steps toward once again becoming a legitimate US citizen.  I was standing there in a melting pot of people of varied races and colors, some carrying children, some trying to conduct business on smart phones, all wishing they were somewhere else.  My tattooed friend turned to me and said with impeccable diction, “I’m thankful the line is moving steadily, perhaps we’ll be served quickly.”  Perhaps?  His enunciation and masterful use of adverbs prompted me to mentally kick myself for judging him, and we enjoyed lively conversation all the way to the service counter.

 Ten-day tag in hand, I left the DMV and headed back to the house where my little family was still sleeping off the travel hangover from the day before and where our renters had treated our home like, well...a rental.  Our family had blessed us by spending a weekend cleaning ten months of grime and neglect from most major surfaces before we got home, and the larders were stocked with meals and groceries to last several days.  

It took twenty-four hours of travel and three flights, the last of which we almost missed, to make the journey from Hawaii to the Charlotte, North Carolina airport where we descended to baggage claim and experienced the first of many joyful reunions when our family greeted us with big hugs and tearful smiles.  We discovered that two of our bags were still in Chicago, but we didn’t care as Deena’s dad drove the two of us home on familiar streets while Joseph and Deveny followed in a car with their cousins—they stopped at Chick-Fil-A on the way.  Deena’s mom and our dog, Lucy, were waiting at our house, and we were greeted with more hugs and excited yelps from a pooch not quite sure what was happening.  Our family left us to get settled, and we wandered from room to room in a fog sizing up the work still left to do and trying to process the fact that after ten months on the road, we were standing in our own house with no more destinations left on the itinerary.  We were overwhelmed by fatigue created by relentless travel and and emotion; so we all headed to our mattresses on the floors and crashed hard.

Jet lag didn’t present much of a problem over the next couple of days.  We were able to fall back into regular sleep patterns easily, but I’m having trouble remembering small details about our first week back home.  I do remember endless trips to Home Depot, Target, Wal-Mart, Starbucks, and a few other establishments which I’m probably supposed to be boycotting for various reasons, but the needs of my family and the convenience of nearby retail trumped American societal requirements.  While the kids spent several days reconnecting with their friends, Deena and I set about painting the interior of house.  and We steadily knocked out major areas every day and sat on the floor in the evenings looking at our accomplishments.  Even though it was hard work, we enjoyed the time spent together erasing the presence of our negligent tenants and once again making our house a home.

At the end of two weeks, the house was painted, there was new carpet, new bathroom floors, two new toilets, a new dishwasher, and a stocked fridge and pantry.  We have re-established a purchasing pattern at the local Food Lion where we still can’t comprehend the vast selection of supplies that was unavailable during our travels.  I finally have a new wireless printer which works perfectly and allows me to print crisp copies of the multitude of invoices received from contractors and vendors.  The fantasy budget that Deena and I created for our return home was completely blown up, and we were thankful that we were so diligent about saving money on the road.  We came back with a surplus of cash that allowed for home improvements and alleviated most of the stress involved with writing big checks.

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We’ve been home for a month, and it still feels like we just woke up from a dream.  We wonder how it could be that we traveled the world for ten months after two years of planning, and now it’s over.  The house looks great.  The beds are all put back together, pictures are back on the walls, and the majority of the boxes stored in the garage are unpacked.  The cars are legal again, the kids are mostly enrolled for school in the fall, and Deena and I have been back to work for a couple of weeks.  I’m horribly out of shape, but after a month back on the ladder with a brush in my hand, the soreness is finally abating, and my waistline is slowly shrinking.  We’re back at our beloved church and still enjoying reconnecting with the friends we missed for such a long time.  We’re doing our best to live one day at a time, and the lack of commitment has allowed for a simple life even in the midst of fixing our house and easing back into work.  

I am not interested in politics, and I avoid political discussions which are usually at best, parroted rhetoric and at worst, angry whining which I cannot abide.  During our travels, we were aware of all the changes taking place in the United States and thankful to be removed from the uproar and impassioned pleas from celebrities urging citizens to “resist.”  I choose to “embrace” instead.  Embrace all the policy set forth by the new administration?  Embrace the presentation of news by the major networks driven by the pursuit of ratings under the guise of responsible journalism?  By all means, no!  The intricate workings of government and the political process are beyond the grasp of the average citizen who is left with only social media to vent frustration.  I choose rather to embrace the fact that people have basic needs all over the world, and that governments will never be able to provide them whether their efforts stem from political gain or good intentions.  Instead of worrying about the state of our country or the whole world or feeling guilt over my station or provision, I can embrace a life of hard work, kindness, and do my best to meet the needs of those whom the Lord places in my path.  We may have our issues in this country, but after spending the majority of a year in twenty-five other countries, I can say with authority that we have it pretty dang good here.  That’s all I have to say about that.

Even though we are still experiencing the joy of being home and spending time with those we love, there are aspects of living on the road that I miss such as waking up to a new day in an exotic place with a nothing to accomplish but a docket of fun discovery.  I miss uninterrupted time with my family and constant deep conversation with my wife with whom I love to talk.  After my first full day of work away from our house, I embraced my wife and cried because I missed her so badly that day.  I miss having the time to spend writing every morning looking out the window to a beautiful view and cooking a late breakfast for my family.  Before we left home, I purposed to read through the entire Bible in a year, and through the aid of an app which scheduled daily readings, I accomplished that goal, which finding comfort and refuge far from home every night.  I enjoyed it so much that I started over once we got home, and the rest of my family is doing it with me.  

Best cup of coffee?  Double espresso at our favorite bakery on Santorini.  Favorite countries?  For the history geek, Greece, Egypt, and Israel.  Favorite beach?  The incredible Railay Beach in Thailand.  Favorite food?  Hummus in the Middle East and street food in Greece and Vietnam.  Favorite ancient wonders?  The Great Wall of China, Angkor Wat in Cambodia, the ruins at Pompeii, Ephesus in Turkey, Petra in Jordan, Beth She’an in Israel, the old city in Jerusalem, Mycenae in Greece, and the pyramids in Egypt.  Best museums?  The British Museum for its embarrassment of riches and the Museum of Country Life in Ireland for its quaint reminder of simpler times.  Favorite countryside?  Ireland and New Zealand.  Favorite big city?  Bangkok, Thailand.  Least favorite big city?  Phnom Penh, Cambodia.  Favorite natural setting?  The Mekong Delta in Vietnam.  Favorite experiences?  Walking on the Great Wall of China with our friends from home, sitting together on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, riding elephants in Thailand, walking the parapets of the old city walls in Jerusalem, hiking to the Blue Pools in New Zealand, and camping with the bedouins in the Wadi Rum desert of Jordan.  A few things I’ll never forget?  My children riding a camel up to the pyramids, reading from the Gospel of John in the old synagogue in Capernaum, reading a Psalm of Ascent walking up the southern temple steps in Jerusalem, sunset on Santorini, my daughter’s eyes as she saw the ceiling in the Sistine Chapel, my son’s face as he stroked a tiger’s back in Thailand, and sitting close with my wife in front of a fire in the woodstove as the sun rose on the mountains of Makarora, New Zealand.  There are so many more, but I have to end this passage.

Have we changed after spending so much time away?  We certainly have more confidence after completing complex travel logistics and surviving in foreign cultures with significant language barriers.  We learned to be more thankful in good circumstances and more content in challenging ones while supporting each other with good cheer.  We worked together to accomplish a major goal and enjoyed each other’s company with hardly any friction.  We learned and laughed together and saw a bunch of really cool stuff in hard-to-reach places and appreciated our opportunities all the while with no regrets.  

So, the painter and his wife took their small backpacks and two teengagers and traveled around the world for ten months.  When we arrived back in Charlotte but before we descended to baggage claim and the reunion with our family, I found a quiet corner in the concourse and gathered my little family around.  I told the children that life would begin pulling them in different directions and away from Deena and me as they get older and begin to establish their own lives.  I also told them that if anyone ever said that they couldn’t do something, or if a challenge seemed insurmountable, to remember that they spent a year traveling around the world.  I aso said that no matter where life takes us, we would always have our time together in our hearts and memories.  I looked at their excited and smiling faces and said through tears, “Let’s go home.”