In South Asia I loved my silauta— a flat, gray, oval stone carved with ornate designs. I used the lohoro, or smaller stone, to grind garlic and spices on the silauta.  

My friend chose the silauta and lohoro because she also cooked in my house. When she bought them, the surfaces were rough, but with seven years of use, they became shiny and smooth—a picture of God’s work in me. Every element of life in that country made me a better human. My friend was a huge part of that. 

I met her weeks after our international move. She helped me understand her culture. We shared holidays and birthdays. She helped during bed rest and miscarriage. She walked with me during pregnancy, new motherhood, and kindergarten homeschooling. My contractions and labor began while I was eating at her house. For seven years she saw my unfiltered moments—good and bad—and was faithful through them all. While she was not perfect, she was a beautiful example of Jesus in this world. And she helped me belong. 

When I left South Asia I had to leave behind the silauta, lohoro, and my friend. Our goodbye hug was excruciating—so many tears. I left an entire life I could not take with me. I was saying goodbye to seven years—a season my friend and I had grown through, wept through, enjoyed and experienced together. Now we were both moving into new, unknown seasons. 

In the USA people welcomed me home, but I was not home. I had just left home. Everyone wanted to talk at me or fix me. No one understood how I needed to process my journey and figure out life again. I simply wasn’t the same person. Words cannot adequately explain some things. 

God brought a new friend who had also lived long term as an expat, with her own version of painful goodbyes and new beginnings. The comforting sense of belonging I felt with her helped me slowly transition into a new life. She understood that, “I’m crying because I miss my silauta,” actually meant I was missing my former life. She loved and listened without judging. She walked with me as my friend in South Asia had, but into a new season of life. I began to think belonging might be possible again.