I have always been fascinated by words in some languages that don't have direct translations in other languages. A different word or multiple words may come close to expressing that word, but it doesn't quite describe it spot on. For example, the word "awkward" in English does not have a direct translation into Spanish. The closest you can get to saying awkward is "incómodo" which translates to "uncomfortable," which doesn't exactly describe everyone's middle school years like the word "awkward" does. Another word that doesn't exist in Spanish is "pie" (what a shame). In Spanish, the word for "pie" and the word for "cake" are the exact same thing. I have spent what has felt like several hours hiking through the mountains outside of Madrid with Spanish-speaking pals and arguing the fact that there is a difference between cake and pie.
There is a word in Spanish called "sobremesa" which beautifully describes the conversations between people after they have shared a meal. This word does not exist in English unfortunately. After eating together, one stays at the table for sobremesa, or to converse with one another. This is one of my favorite words in the Spanish language.
If you have ever had a conversation with me, you have probably picked up that I have done quite a bit of globe trotting over the past couple of years. It started in 2021 when I went to Liberia, and then from Liberia to Spain, Spain to Bloomington, Bloomington to Mexico, Mexico to Bloomington, Bloomington to South Bend, and soon to be South Bend to Ecuador, Ecuador to Fort Wayne, and Fort Wayne to Taiwan. Throughout all of these travels, I have always struggled with the question where is home? I think a part of me has always searched for home in each place I've been. After arriving at each new country, I wanted to see if this new place could be home. Although amazed by each new culture and extremely blessed with the people and community that God gave me during my time in each country, I always felt like I didn't quite find home. There was always a piece missing that I couldn't describe.
As I prepare to move to Taiwan in July 2023, I have been taking in as much information as I can about Taiwan and the Chinese language. I recently found a word in Chinese that doesn't exist in English that I absolutely love. This word is "详情" (xiangqing) which describes the longing to find home, but no place quite fits. I love this word so much because the first time I read it, I knew this described my own longing so well. It also showed me that I am not alone in longing for a home. I am not the first, and certainly not the last to feel like a permanent sojourner.
At first the feeling of constant homesickness was really frustrating, feeling like I will never find a true home. When I was in a new country, I longed for the United States. When I was in the United States, I longed to be in another country. As I reflect on this feeling of 详情 a little more (I have no idea if I'm using that correctly), I realize that this feeling gives me an opportunity to look at the cross. My true home does not exist here on earth. This world is tainted by brokenness and sin. We were created to live with our Savior, and any life apart from our Savior, whether filled great with joy or great sorrow, will never fully satisfy on this side of eternity. Philippians 3:20 says "Our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ." In this life, I am a sojourner. I am just passing through. No matter where I am at, my hope and home lay in the only One who can provide that for me, Jesus.
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