Coming Home
This is the part of the story where I take this blog completely for myself and stop worrying if anything here applies to you, makes sense, makes you happy or makes you sad. Maybe for some of you, this will be the last entry you ever read. The rest of you–all six! all seven!–will be riveted.
I am crossing over these last few days, and I don’t mean this in regards to anything about this blog. I can feel the pages turning, hand unseen, opening the book to a whole new chapter. Remember in The Pursuit of Happyness where he named the chapters of his life? This is the one for me called “Coming Home.”
When I was in third grade just about Madeleine’s age, every morning as we were getting settled and organized into our desks, our teacher, Miss Mullineaux, read an ongoing story about a missionary child living in some faraway land. I remember being completely intoxicated by the adventure of that–a nine year old girl let lose in places I still couldn’t find on the map–even if the missionary part weighted me down with a sense of cosmic obligation and pressure. My life, from that day forward, has been about reconciling my pull to international adventure with my need to be rooted in enough everyday domestic stability to keep from spinning myself right off the planet.
I remember Dave making it very clear right before we got engaged that while living overseas was certainly an option, he wasn’t that guy who would be moving to Japan anytime soon. It is to Dave’s credit that he understood the value of spelling that out for me. I needed to know what I was getting into and he knew better than I did that it was not a life wandering around refugee camps in sub-sahara Africa. I took the declaration to heart. And just in case I had no idea what I wanted, the Universe gave me one more chance to opt out. I got a phone call asking if I’d have any interest in tutoring a child actor on a movie set in Sri Lanka. I am not making this up. I did my fair share of soul searching and realized the adventure I was longing for was marriage–this marriage. I said no, thank you and when Dave asked me to marry him some months later, I answered, “With all my heart.”
It was the guttiest thing I have ever done, choosing to have a quieter life, and I have often since then questioned my sanity. I have wondered too about the sanity of my dear husband, who willingly chose a woman with no appetite for domestic living, to be the mother of his children, his partner for life. But as my African friends say, going in and out of my house, “Jenny! This man is just like you.” And they are right. Dave can’t resist ribbing with Fatou about her famous plantains, or lamenting with Gety about how hard work is. He has put in enough cooking hours with Moirita to earn him permanent “Tio” status, and Lourdes cannot get it through his head that it really is okay for her to take public transit back home.
I took this influx of immigrants in and out of my life as some kind of fluke, an anomaly of the life I had chosen. It only took me ten years to realize that while I had given up wandering Africa and beyond to have a more “normal” life, that the world had come straight to me. When I say on certain bios that every day people from faraway lands wander in and out of the magic door of my house, offering stories, savory feasts or kind companionship, I am not kidding. This makes for a certain kind of order to my ordinary chaos, a kind of anchor to all the little unavoidable storms of domestic life. I realized only recently that if anyone is experiencing an international life on native soil, it would have to be me.
Then last year, I met a former refugee from sub-Sahara Africa. A certain young woman who had survived the genocide and great misfortune in my country, left her children behind in her own and who despite all this had the patience and life force present to become one of the dearest friends I have ever had. This friendship has been particularly transformative for me, and in the context of this partnership I have made deep excursions into the land of hope, where a kind of joy has become available to me. And a certain kind of freedom where my rational mind gives way to a more expansive way of seeing my circumstances and indeed, the world.
I don’t want to make it sound too cheery, because in exchange for all this magic, I have also inherited moments of terror and real stress, brought to me directly by this country’s policies on immigration, immunity and other matters best left to lawyers and judges. I wonder sometimes how much I can hold, how much responsibility I can take, how much of this is some twisted narcissistic whim to finally be noble in my own eyes. If I think about that too much, I gross out, knowing firsthand that my ego is about the size of Africa, if someone had the means and willpower to actually measure.
I’ve decided that only cure for ego like this is risk. And given my personal ego situation, the bigger the risk the better. And by risk I don’t mean base jumping or taking up heroin, I mean going into that part of your soul where your biggest dreams and also your biggest questions reside. Fear lives there and also tremendous self-doubt. Also, the wonderful saving knowledge that you are tiny and human, a rare thing of beauty on the earth, like the tiniest speck of a planet that Al Gore shows at the end of An Inconvenient Truth. This knowledge, that I am small and ordinary, one girl in the world living just to live, loving just to love, is the kind of information that is ultimately freeing. I can do what I need to do in this moment, legacies be damned.
This weekend a dear friend of mine invited me to go to Africa. The circumstances are convoluted and strange, and I’m not certain if this particular plan will work out or not. But the invitation alone put a hundred dreams in motion. She might as well have dropped a match in a parched forest of possibility. I am on fire.
I don’t know what will happen next, but this morning, sitting across the table from my favorite refugee, lighting candles, pouring over her brilliant, brilliant plans for her country, her children, her continent. I feel incredibly tiny. Incredibly blessed. And ultimately certain, that this is just the beginning.
March 18th, 2008 at 10:40 am
Welcome home, Jen.
I, for one, will be riveted to this unfolding tale.
March 18th, 2008 at 10:44 am
Go on, Missionary Child. I’m thrilled for you.
Love,
Your devoted M (w/a c on its h)
March 18th, 2008 at 10:53 am
I will be riveted too. And your friend is indeed fortunate to have you … taking that big step across the Atlantic can be difficult and lonely (http://eluckypacket.com/2008/03/17/what-we-had-with-dinner-friday-night/). She is blessed to have you!
March 18th, 2008 at 10:54 am
Jen Lemen on fire. Hallelujah.
March 18th, 2008 at 10:56 am
Wow.
I was indeed riveted to this story and I think it is amazing — wonderful and exciting, beautiful and scary. What an incredible adventure! I can’t wait to hear more. You blow me away.
March 18th, 2008 at 10:58 am
WooHoo!!! My dear Jen, may this unfolding journey bring blessing to you and all you hold dear! May the Passion of Lent and the reflection of Passover, land in JOY, EXCITEMENT, and PEACE as you answer Mother Universe’s call born just in you! Candles and prayers on the wind for you.
–Karla
March 18th, 2008 at 11:01 am
Jen,
Your blog is one of the highlights of my morning coffee and blog-reading routine. I am moved by your honesty and by the way you pay attention to the small things. Your courage and creativity are contagious…and for that I’m so thankful. Keep on and (if I may beg) keep writing!
(Oh, and should you ever be in Vancouver, BC…)
March 18th, 2008 at 11:05 am
Oh yeah, yeah, YEAH!!! I am squealing inside! Seriously!!! We must be cut from the same cloth, so to speak! My husband and I spent 3 weeks in Kenya a few summers ago. Probably the best 3 weeks we’ve ever had together. It felt like home to walk off that plane and into the wild city of Nairobi. All of it, I loved all of it. I had (have) such similar dreams to yours, and a husband who, like yours, wasn’t opposed to traveling, but also didn’t want to travel the globe as a relief worker (unlike me). I still don’t really feel like I’ve found my bliss, in the small homogeneous town that I live in. But you inspire me daily to make friends with the friendless. The newcomers to my town, and this country (and there are more and more).
Jen, I would love nothing more than for you to go on this adventure and tell me stories, and more stories of my most favorite land, far, far away.
March 18th, 2008 at 11:06 am
Thank you for sharing this. I wish you many good things on your journey — within yourself as well as outside yourself.
March 18th, 2008 at 11:08 am
Begin again, always, begin again… awesome story, will wait for the next installment of the journey!
March 18th, 2008 at 11:10 am
Beautiful, inspirational, brave, exciting….
I wish you all the best.
Africa, watch out - cause here comes Jen!!!
March 18th, 2008 at 11:16 am
I’m riveted. That makes seven! Best wishes, and I look forward to hearing more.
March 18th, 2008 at 11:39 am
you remind me to be courageous in the face of my dreams…
to remember my dreams.
what a wonderful beginning. I wish you all you need to be present to it all…
March 18th, 2008 at 12:04 pm
Wow!
But, seriously, Miss Mullineaux? She was makin’ that name up!
One day, someone will ask me to go to Cambodia — my dream since age 17. For now, I’ve convinced myself that I’ll die in that heat.
March 18th, 2008 at 12:21 pm
Wow - it sounds like an adventure that I hope you do - so we can live it through you. Hope you’re able to make the decsion not to stressful on yourself!
March 18th, 2008 at 12:23 pm
It seems that twelve others before me are in with you on this journey. We, my hubbie and I, are in an antsy corner of our lives. You inspire me to do something about it.
March 18th, 2008 at 1:24 pm
thank you for such a beautiful, honest, courageous post. what a treat!
March 18th, 2008 at 1:29 pm
*I am on fire.*
I can feel your enthusiasm coming off the page. Can’t wait to see this opportunity unfurl.
March 18th, 2008 at 1:58 pm
oh jen… I so long to go to Africa…particulary Uganda. I have friends who have planted a passion in me for the entire continent and I can’t wait to someday get the opportunity to explore and discover a land I’ve only read and dreamed of. Thank you for such a beautiful post.
March 18th, 2008 at 2:22 pm
jen, your light is shining magic! what an inspiration it is when an amazing woman finds the courage to say yes to her dreams… so many people, but most importantly your children, will surely thank you for that courage
go for it all, babe!
March 18th, 2008 at 4:33 pm
This is my first foray into your world.
How lovely and mesmerizing and nourishing your words, so that a passerby is compelled to stop and lie down in the wonder you’ve recorded here.
Maybe this was the last post some will ever read (though I doubt it from the previous commenters), but it was my first. And I look forward to returning.
March 18th, 2008 at 4:58 pm
I love “an international life on native soil.” That’s what my husband and I had too when we lived in the States (now we actually ARE international, but that’s a whole ‘nother story). All it takes is the love and openness you describe, and friendships blossom as if by magic! I do hope you are able to take some risky plunges, take that trip to Africa (and what a wildly beautiful continent, the kind that immediately seeps into your bones!), and let us all share the journey with you.
March 18th, 2008 at 5:03 pm
Africa gets in your spirit and soul..
without asking for it…xx
March 18th, 2008 at 7:54 pm
Wow! I also am riveted! Good luck on making the decision that is right for you. Thatis an amazing offer and a tough decision. You have so much courage and such a big heart. Take care.
March 18th, 2008 at 8:27 pm
“She might as well have dropped a match in a parched forest of possibility.”
In echoing your words [above] I thank you for sharing your truth and inspiration. I’m with you in the “on fire” state of mind. Wishing you peace and love on your journey (whether at home or afar).
March 18th, 2008 at 8:39 pm
When you are the most true to yourself,
I learn.
March 18th, 2008 at 8:53 pm
One word.
Two letters.
G
O
Go.
March 18th, 2008 at 9:00 pm
Welcome home!! I am looking forward to what is to come.
March 18th, 2008 at 9:12 pm
The line, “I wonder sometimes how much I can hold…” reminds me of the song ‘How Much Can One Heart Hold’ by Kate Campbell.
March 19th, 2008 at 12:37 am
Jen, dreams will be still and silent for awhile but one day…one day, your dream will start pushing, and nudging, and prodding until it hurts too much to say no.
So say yes! Saying yes will nourish you and fill you up. When you bring that fullness home to your family, you’ll be teaching them to say yes to their dreams too.
This dream, this adventure, sounds amazing!
March 19th, 2008 at 12:54 am
I can’t wait to read more!
March 19th, 2008 at 2:44 am
I am so, so excited for you!
Go! Follow your bliss!
Everyone will be praying for you.
March 19th, 2008 at 8:04 am
Yes, go go go. And promise to share.
March 19th, 2008 at 10:16 am
Oh my! What rich goodness! I am blown away by your honesty, your truths, your sharing. It is a brilliant gem in this world of otherwise dusty, dirty, sharp, jagged rocks.
The Universe will continue to place you right where you are meant to be. And we will continue to marvel at your journey.
March 19th, 2008 at 10:59 am
Jen, if it doesn’t work out this time, it is obviously coming (a trip to Africa) in your near future. Go! Make it work for you now…this is your destiny!
March 19th, 2008 at 11:32 am
that’s so amazingly wonderful, jen! i feel like the opportunity to follow your dreams deserves to be awed, and revered, and ultimately, jumped on!!!! i’m so excited to hear more about this developing beginning to what will be a rich and magical story…
March 19th, 2008 at 11:52 am
i have butterflies in my belly and a lump in my throat…
i’m on the edge of my seat, certain that this beginning will lead to stories that will indeed change us all.
welcome home, jen lemen.
xo
March 19th, 2008 at 1:38 pm
sounds very exciting, and very jen. Looking forward to hearing more!
March 19th, 2008 at 4:00 pm
this post reminds me of the book The Artists Way where Julia Cameron talks about self sabotage… about not seeing the parts of our dream that we are living today… you, Miss Jen with one ‘n’ embody the opposite, rather than lamenting and feeling trapped by marriage and family… you not only treasure your marriage and your children, you look at the menagerie of people in and out of your house and frame it as the world coming to you. And when you open your heart, and work from a place of love, not fear, all of the sudden the opportunities present themselves for living more of your dream. Thank you. I’m learning lots from you! and its all good….
March 19th, 2008 at 9:01 pm
These words capture so perfectly a duality I’ve considered for many years: “reconciling my pull to international adventure with my need to be rooted in enough everyday domestic stability to keep from spinning myself right off the planet.”
It is interesting that you begin this post by saying that this part is just about you. Reading the comments reminds me that when we are being this authentic, this on-fire, this intuitive, this jazzed, this purposeful, listening this closely to what the Universe is whispering (or shouting out), it is also about everyone, because that is ultimately what we all want.
You’re the real deal. Thanks for sharing yourself in this way.
March 19th, 2008 at 9:29 pm
Jen, such power, hope, love, adventure, risk-taking, and joy all in a few precious lines. And in your one, wild, and precious life! Cannot wait to hear where and how all this goes. And comes. And keeps your soul ablaze.
March 20th, 2008 at 7:41 am
“Go confidently…” This sounds wonderful. We KNOW when our time to move comes. Sounds like yours is beckoning. I loved this post, and look forward to reading what unfolds.
March 21st, 2008 at 1:30 pm
“My life, from that day forward, has been about reconciling my pull to international adventure with my need to be rooted in enough everyday domestic stability to keep from spinning myself right off the planet.”
Holy [bleep] girl, you took the words right out of my mouth.
March 21st, 2008 at 10:09 pm
Wow! This is so inspiring. I traveled a bit before I got married. Lived in Japan for a year. My husband told me before we married that if I was planning on doing more of that, then we shouldn’t be together. Well, I felt like I had had enough travel, and I have. But sometimes I wish my husband was a little more adventurous…however, I’m sure if we had a bigger budget, maybe he would!
Anyway, I applaud you for inviting these people into your home. I hope you get to go to Africa soon, and I most certainly will come back here to read about it!
March 21st, 2008 at 11:06 pm
I have goose bumps.
March 22nd, 2008 at 7:23 am
dearest jen
your courage, enthusiasm and pure joy are such a gift!
blessings
m
March 22nd, 2008 at 2:40 pm
Many, many blessings, Jen. Thank you so much for sharing this post. I hope to read more.
March 22nd, 2008 at 3:40 pm
May you be greatly blessed in Africa again… Thank you for following me on Twitter (meerkatje). Hoping to connect if you ever come to Cape Town, South Africa where our organisation is very active in communities. We love people with soul that support the dreams and stories of ordinary Africans… Thank you!!
March 23rd, 2008 at 2:17 pm
This feeling of coming home is one that has been growing inside me over the last couple of years, and you have nailed the freedom of it. There is more joy, even in the midst of hardship, now than ever before.
I am so glad that you are able to pursue your life with such love.
March 24th, 2008 at 9:45 am
[…] Almost every morning the friend I was telling you about earlier, walks to my house to hang out, do our work together or just share a space while we each do our respective projects. This arrangement delights me, since I get tired of working by myself and now that I have a studio set up in the Tower, it’s much more difficult to move my work around from coffee shop to coffee shop the way I used to do when I felt lonely. […]
April 8th, 2008 at 9:01 pm
[…] Heart Opening This is my shout from the rooftop: I love Jen Lemen. Every visit to her world becomes an opportunity to open my heart and connect. Jen inspires dreams and supports the birth of hope everwhere. After years of holding her dream in balance with her mothering, the time has come. Africa is now knocking on her front door. Please support her in saying yes. […]
April 9th, 2008 at 3:29 pm
[…] Saying yes to my heart at that moment truly changed my life and while I can only write about it here in bits and pieces, it is the kind of story that has brought me an understanding of hope that I didn’t really know before. You see the fruit of that in these pages, in these pictures and in all the art I’ve created ever since Odette and I met. […]
June 7th, 2008 at 1:52 pm
She might as well have dropped a match in a parched forest of possibility. I am on fire.
The beginning is amazing to go through and to look back on. I love to see the fruit of this fire.
July 9th, 2008 at 10:16 pm
[…] strange to me now is to read the archives and look over all the art I’ve done over the last year. I’ve always found it kind if […]