I trust.

I am sitting at the airport. It’s no longer just the Prague Airport, it’s now the Airport of Vaclav Havel in Prague. I liked Vaclav Havel. I admired him for what he did during the regime, against it and for the people. So I am sitting on his floor right now, at a gate that’s not even opened yet because I am that early. I love airports, and I enjoy travelling, but there is something about them that stresses me out. I always feel like I am late, missing an airplane, or getting the time wrong. That is why I like to be early, but this time I am too early. There are a lot of people even though this gate is at the very end of the hall, sun rays shining in through all the metal walls and big windows, and I see a guy opposite me, too sitting on Vaclav Havel’s floor, his laptop opened and I guess he is watching a movie. This is why I love places like this – you can be whoever, you don’t even have to be you, you can try to be someone else, you can speak a different language, you can sit on the floor, watch movies, sleep, look groggy or fabulous – nobody cares. The moment you enter the airport halls, you enter a different world.

My flight is to Dublin, Ireland; yet again. Leaving home but going home. Leaving and arriving. Saying heartbreaking goodbyes and sweetest hellos. Enjoying the pleasure of speaking my own language while I can, knowing later in the day I will be with no one who knows it. I am going through the motions today. Getting up, checking my suitcase weight one last time, having my brother take the heavy thing to the car, kisses from grandpa, sad looks from the puppy, a long car ride with Kuba and Mum in the dark listening to Coldplay because it’s the one band we all love, more kisses and hugs and goodbyes and eventually tears before I get on the train, the door closing and me finding my seat by the window (thank you ticket lady!), being half asleep in case they come to check my ticket but wanting to sleep so badly because my eyes hurt, getting off the train and being hit by the heat wave in the capital city where there is no snow and the temperature is nowhere near the Ostrava -3°C, walking to meet friends for breakfast and catching up with all four of them in a rush before heading to the metro, getting the old bus that carries bittersweet memories in it all the way to number  1  Terminal, getting off and waiting for my Check In desk to pop up, reading some of my book but paying no attention because thoughts come flooding my mind so I give up, look up again and see No.138 next to Dublin, heart racing fast at the desk because my suitcase might be overweight and no matter how hard I try to think I can’t think of anything I could leave behind, thankfully seeing the big red 19.9KG on the desk when I place my suitcase next to the nice guy behind it, who smiles at me and his eyes say he knows how I feel, getting my boarding pass and going through security, saying Hello and Nashledanou, another goodbye I say to a guy I do not know and will not see again but it is like saying Goodbye to my home, my country, my people and my friends, finding my gate and sitting on this cold Vaclav Havel floor.

What else this day holds, I do not know. All I know is WHO holds this day, and I think this is quite enough.

It is true that I am torn. Home for 7 days is not many but somehow deep inside I believe it was God’s plan and God’s  plans are always perfect and good for his children, his daughters – me. I can’t be anything but thankful. I got to celebrate Lukas and Marketa’s love, in person, on their big day. I got to serve and give in a practical way, too, and I was part of it. Once again my presence with all the people from church and youth group and all the friends I didn’t keep in touch with who could have been angry but chose not to, my presence with them this week was taken as normal. Normal but appreciated. I am thankful because I realized this will always be my home, and just because one moves doesn’t mean she is to leave all the friendships that are so deep and dear behind and find new ones. She can keep them, and she should keep them. It is good for her. And if this is the only thing I was to take back to Dublin, back to Belfast, back to my new home, I am thankful. Thankful for God, thankful for His gentle teaching and quiet but strong leadership, for his love and acceptance and for my friends and people who love me, in Ireland, but back in Czech, too. People in Czech who don’t give up on me even after months of no emails or calls, who love me because they know me.

I am about to board a plane to Dublin, I am about to leave all the sweet memories I made this week behind, not knowing when I will be back to pick up where I left off. I am about to leave these sun rays that are so soft and warm on my cheeks and make me close my eyes and my mouth curve into a smile. I am leaving my home.

I am going home.

And as I step into the airplane, as I find my seat by the window, as I get off and feel the rain drops on my face, as I find the right platform and get on the bus which will take me to the north and home, as I open the door to my house and find my bed, as I pray to and praise God, as I watch and smile and am quiet these next few days, as I cry and laugh and feel sad and happy all at once, as I don’t understand myself and find my own mind confusing and look to God for answers, as I get used to being away and here again, as I learn and fail and forgive myself and others and pray some more, and as I realize my God IS and is STILL and still THE SAME… as I do all this…

…I trust.