A few of my friends and family have said, “I can’t wait to read your blog about your trip to Jordan,” (to provide context: I just spent two weeks in the Middle East for a family affair) and although some people are looking forward to me writing about my trip to Amman, I haven’t felt inspired to write about the details of my time there.
What’s weighing heavily on me right now has less to do with what food I ate, what cultural differences I noticed, and what words I learned in Arabic, and more to do with something I never really grasped until I was surrounded by a family that lives across the world.
To provide even more context, my sister and her fiancé had a beautiful party to celebrate their engagement on December 28th at a French restaurant in the capital of Jordan. My sister and her fiancé met six years ago at college and have been together since. I have known him for the entirety of the six years.
But I never really thought about how big of an adjustment it must have been for him (for anyone for that matter), to leave behind everything he knew and everyone he loved to start a new life in a new country, nowhere even kinda close to home.
Until I was on his home turf surrounded by his family’s love, and when I say “family”, I don’t just mean his mom, dad, sister, and brother. I mean all of his aunts, uncles, and cousins, too.
And let me just say, he has a lot of family, which means, he had a lot of love bundled into his life at home.
That’s when it hit me. Like a tidal wave.
Growing up in the US, I was taught that my country of residence was the land of opportunity and potential. That was drilled into me year after year in school, so I never questioned why people immigrated to the States. I just assumed they came here for a “better life”, whatever that meant for them.
But to be honest, I didn’t question anything else either. I didn’t think about how much courage and bravery and strength it takes to uproot your entire life and start again somewhere new. I didn’t think about how leaving one’s country means leaving behind people you see on a regular basis. I didn’t think about how hard it must be to start from scratch and work your way up. I didn’t think about any of that.
And then I was meeting all of my sister’s fiancé’s family, driving past his old high school, eating dinner with all of his relatives, sitting around the living room with his parents and siblings and talking until the wee hours of the night, and I couldn’t help but think about how unbelievable it is to change everything you know to be true for an opportunity.
Just an opportunity.
It wasn’t until I was there, in the flesh, experiencing it for myself that it clicked. That this is his family. That these are his friends. That these neighborhoods are where he grew up. And how that feeling of “home” can only be produced here. No matter how long he spends elsewhere and who he meets and how integrated into society he becomes, this is where it all began. This is home.
And he left all of that. At 18 years old. By himself.
I just don’t think my brain will ever fully grasp the severity of that move. It’s truly core-shaking.
Today, I count my blessings twice. First and foremost for the people I love. For my family and friends. For the fact that they all live here in the US, and I don’t need a visa or a passport to visit any of them. I need to hop on a plane to see a few, but nothing’s stopping me from doing that.
I also count my blessings for living close to my family. I used to think my sister and her fiancé living 45 minutes from me was far. Then they moved 20 minutes closer to where I live, and I see them about once a week, sometimes more, now. I can’t imagine living across the world from my family. I don’t know if I could do it.
When I was in Jordan, my sister said one of her fiancé’s relatives told her once that they pray their kids don’t go to the US because, “the US takes their loved ones and never gives them back.”
That broke my heart.
I want to say that I am blessed beyond belief to have been born an American, and I think anyone who doesn’t recognize the privilege that comes with even just living in the US does not understand the gravity of this country, but I’m also STILL so ignorant. Sometimes, that pains me so much, and other times, that motivates me like nothing else.
Thankfully, every time I travel, a piece of my ignorance is shattered in the best way possible. I don’t think I’ll ever be free of ignorance, but the more I experience different ways of life, different cities, and different cultures, the more I chip away at it, and truly, I love being stone-cold reminded that I’m nowhere near done learning everything I can. Whether I’m abroad learning about other countries or I’m abroad learning about how the US is perceived from other people’s points of view, I’m learning. I’m growing. I’m becoming.
I want to dedicate this post to everyone who has ever peeled themselves away from their family, friends, and environment to chase after a life in a different country. I cannot express how admirable I think it is to possess that level of strength and courage. It’s mind-blowing. It makes me want to bow down to everyone who has ever done it. I can’t think of anything more daunting yet incredibly commendable.
Hats off to the people who risk everything for a chance at something. I see you, and I think the absolute world of you.
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