Have you ever stood at the edge of an airport terminal, your suitcase heavy with more than just clothes—with hopes, fears, and the unspoken stories your heart carries? Have you ever whispered a quiet apology to your homeland as you boarded a plane, masking your reasons with phrases like “better opportunities” when the truth feels too tender to share? If so, this is for you. Leaving home is never simple. It is an act of courage dressed in practicality. You may tell the world you left for a job, for growth, or for adventure, but only you know the deeper truths—the struggles that made staying feel impossible, the dreams that felt too fragile to explain, or the quiet ache of needing to start over. You are not running away; you are running toward a version of life that honors your resilience. And that is nothing short of brave.

The Weight of Unspoken Goodbyes
It’s okay to mourn what you’ve left behind: the solace of your mother’s love that held you intact, the laughter of friends who knew you before you became “strong,” the street food stalls that held your memories. Grief does not make you ungrateful for the opportunities ahead—it makes you human. You may feel like a stranger in your new world, navigating languages, customs, and loneliness that no video call can soothe. There will be days when the phrase “I’m fine” feels like a lie, when the weight of being “the outsider” presses down, or when guilt creeps in for building a life your loved ones may never fully understand. But think of a seed carried by the wind. It does not choose where it lands, but it roots itself anyway, growing toward the light. You, too, are learning to grow in unfamiliar soil. It will take time. There will be storms. But you are not broken—you are adapting. And adaptation is its own kind of magic.
You are the sum of every border you’ve crossed, external and internal. One day, you’ll look back and see how far you’ve come. The loneliness, the doubts, the nights you whispered, “Was it worth it?” will become part of a story that ends with “I’m still here.” And that story will be a lighthouse for someone else lost in the storm. So keep going, dear one and never forget: Your true home is not here. Every step you take on earth is part of a pilgrimage toward eternity. The loneliness, the cultural divides, the ache for belonging—they are temporary. But what God is doing in you is eternal. One day, you’ll look back and see His hand in every detail. Your story will declare His faithfulness. Keep going - not in your strength, but in His. When the road is steep, fix your eyes on Jesus, the Author and Perfecter of your faith (Hebrews 12:2). He has not brought you this far to abandon you. No, there’s no place to go but forward—because forward is where He’s leading. The God who numbered the hairs on your head also counts every tear you cry in secret. You are held. You are not lost; you are sent.

“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make His face shine on you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn His face toward you and give you peace.” (Numbers 6:24-26).