When God Calls You Home

Some of you may have noticed that I didn’t send out a December edition of The Missionary Chronicles. The reason is simple: I was home in San Diego, spending precious time with family and friends, resting, and reflecting on all that the past few months have held.

Originally, I wasn’t planning to go home for Christmas. I had booked a two-week solo trip through Italy—Naples, Rome for Christmas, Florence, Verona, and Milan for a New Year’s Christian young adult retreat. On paper, it sounded exciting: new places, new people, another adventure. But as the trip drew closer, my excitement slowly faded. Traveling alone no longer appealed to me, backpacking and hostels felt exhausting, and the thought of coordinating trains, accommodations, and tickets drained me before I even left. Two weeks before departure, I changed course and booked a flight home.

Once the idea crossed my mind, I couldn’t let it go. Within 24 hours, I booked the ticket—and felt immediate peace. I was going home to my parents, to home-cooked meals, familiar rhythms, warm weather, and the freedom of driving my own car again. I was also excited to reunite with family visiting from Brazil; it had been years since we were all together. I knew there were conversations waiting—space to reconnect, to apologize, to seek clarity—and my heart felt ready for them.

Time with my family was really meaningful. My parents and I spent our mornings together having quiet times with God, and my brother and I had deep conversations that don’t happen often enough. I soaked up time with my cousins—rainy beach walks, a Disneyland trip, mountain trip day, board games, shopping, and lots of laughter.

We celebrated Christmas twice, Latin-family style. Christmas Eve was loud, joyful, and hilarious—Santa hats required, gifts mixed up, wrong names, kid-sized clothing, and one present missing the actual gift. I laughed until my stomach hurt. My favorite gift was a Bible dictionary from my brother (too heavy to bring back to Bucharest, but worth the wait). On Christmas Day, we invited friends who didn’t have family in town, filling the house with conversation, games, and joy.

New Year’s was quiet—and perfect. Around the dinner table, we shared our highlights from 2025 and hopes for 2026. Some stories were joyful, others heavy. We cried, reflected, and for the first time ever, prayed in the new year together, thanking God for what He had done and trusting Him for what was to come.

During my time home, I also picked up shifts at Express—my reliable side hustle when I need extra income. It felt good to work, reconnect with old coworkers, meet new ones, and feel productive. Retail is tangible work; you see results. Missionary life is also work—often unseen and slow—so the contrast was refreshing.

But the most meaningful part of being home was the conversations. I spent time catching up with friends, sharing honestly about what God has been doing in me. I talked openly about the joy, the discomfort, the refining, and the deep internal changes happening through RevivEE. Vulnerability invited vulnerability, and I was humbled by the stories people shared—their wrestlings with God, their faith under pressure, and their perseverance. These conversations reminded me that true joy isn’t found in outcomes, but in the process of sanctification.

I also came home seeking clarity about the future. Would I return to San Diego? Would God keep me in Eastern Europe? Would certain relationships be restored, or would He lead me somewhere new? I didn’t receive every answer—but I received peace. Psalm 16:5–8, read on the first Sunday of the year, became an anchor for me: “Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup… I keep my eyes always on the Lord. With Him at my right hand, I will not be shaken.”

God’s care for me was evident in unexpected ways. A weather delay postponed my return to Bucharest by two days—and during that time, my grandmother passed away. Though deeply painful, God made a way for me to travel with my family to Texas to honor her life. Even my non-refundable ticket was graciously adjusted. I was exactly where I needed to be.

The road trip to Texas was long but beautiful—deserts, mountains, and wide-open skies. Returning to Farwell, Texas, a small town of eleven-hundred people where my dad grew up, allowed me to reconnect with family I barely knew and better understand my heritage. I saw how deeply connected we all are—and reflected on my grandmother’s life. She loved fiercely, laughed freely, held strong convictions, and cared deeply for people. Her faith and love left a legacy worth honoring (read her obituary HERE).

Looking back, it’s clear that going home wasn’t a detour—it was an invitation. An invitation to rest, to grieve, to reconnect, to gain perspective, and to trust God more deeply. This season reminded me that following God doesn’t always mean pressing forward; sometimes it means returning, being still, and letting Him tend to the parts of our hearts that need care.

As I return to RevivEE, I do so grounded, grateful, and reassured: the same God who called me here is the One who holds my future. And with Him, my lot is secure.