I often wonder “What if?” about many things in my life. I’m sure to some extent we all do. I look back on choices that I made and that I didn’t make and I wonder what my life would look like right now, if certain things had and hadn’t happened.
For sure I am not the first person to ever wonder this, nor will I be the last. But, for someone who loves KY as much as I do, it’s easy for me to sit back and try and imagine what my life would have been like if I had never left.
I first left The County in high school. Of course I had been out of the county and out of the state in the past—but that was the first time I had ever left the country. I can remember what it felt like to sit and imagine how far away from home that my friends and I were, and I remember thinking about how all of my friends at home would have loved to be there as well. I was lucky to be able to take two international trips during high school, and I was hooked.
I was lucky to meet the Summays in high school and was also lucky to attend a church where international missions, or at least mission trips, were possible. The summer after my freshman year of college I was sitting on a plane bound for post-war Bosnia—and didn’t have a clue about where I was going or what I was getting in to. After that whirlwind love at first sight trip to Bosnia—I wound up going back four more times, and each time I tried to stay longer and longer.
I came to Japan in the fall of 2006, spent a year here, went home, and now here I am again. My time here has been crazy to say the least, and I never thought I would be here teaching a school after my first year here was finished. Life is amazing.
All in all I guess I have traveled abroad on 10 separate international trips since I was 16 years old—quite a bit considering that I am 27 at this moment in time. I’m not sure how many countries I have been in—with a quick count I come up with about 20.
I say that not to brag—because for sure I have been blessed to be able to have seen as much as I have. I say that only to reinforce to myself why it is that I look at the world the way I do. I can remember being in Europe that first time and really realizing that there was a world outside of Scott County—and it was going on all the same at the same when I was back home—even if I didn’t know about it at the time. There were people like me, with friends like me, who laughed and cried like me, who loved their mom and dad like me, who talked like me and who didn't talk like me, who loved the sunshine like me, and who lived and died like me—I just had never thought about them before.
I wonder what would DH look like if he had never left Scott County—never left for any significant period of time anyway. What would he believe and where would he be? Would he be years into his chosen field? Perhaps he would be a doctor or a stockbroker or a preacher. Would he be married with children of his own? Would he have a small house somewhere in Georgetown with a mortgage and a car payment? Would he be an alcoholic who is jobless who dreams of something bigger all day? I guess we will never know.
For sure our experiences, both good and bad, make us who we are today. I wouldn't have the views that I have if I had gone another route. I can’t hear someone talk about war without thinking about the horror and damage done to Kemo’s family. I can’t talk about Muslims without thinking about Sega and Sevda and how much love they have shown me and they continue to show my friends. I can’t think about Buddhists and Japs without seeing the faces of all of my smiling and laughing kids who want the same things out of life that their American counterparts do. I can’t eat a club sandwich without thinking about that one that I had in Dublin that I’m sure I never will be able to recreate. I can’t drink a German style beer and not think about backpacking with my sister through Germany and sitting with her in the lobby of the Sunflower Hostel as we both wrote in our journals and I sipped on some Berliner Pilsner. I can’t eat a hamburger and not think about all of the amazingly tasty ones that I ate on the porch of The Summatarium in the late summer.
Where would I be if I had gone another route? What would the DH look like who walked down a different road? I don’t know—and honestly, now I don’t care too much.

I kinda like the way I’ve turned out so far.