In two days, we will have lived in Mexico for 6 months.
Technically, this means that 25% of our two-year commitment has been completed;
un-technically it means we are still adjusting and learning. I hope to write more, just to
communicate what life is like here, because many times what we think we know about someone's life, isn't really the whole story. And I'm a big fan of whole stories. I suppose we are technically “missionaries” (though I
don’t refer to myself as such very often), and I had lots of ideas and thoughts
about missionaries before becoming one. Here are a few:
1. They love adventure and new places
2. They are so busy they probably hardly think about their friends
3. How easy—they get to live on other peoples’ money!
4. They are satisfied and have peace because they are making huge
sacrifices to help others
Now, let me explain.
1. I don’t hate adventure or
new places, but I wouldn’t say I love them either. I’m what you might call a
low-risk-taker. I was in Costa Rica, several years ago, in the jungle with the
purpose of zip lining through it. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity,
I’m sure, but I declined with a polite “no gracias.” Instead, I sat in the tree
house and painted my nails, because that’s about as risky as I get. But in my
defense, one time, not too long before this, I gave in to the lure of
“it’s-a-once-in-a-life-time-opportunity” and I inadvertently ended up mostly
naked in some crystal-clear ocean of Brazil in front of a lot of people and one
giant starfish. I may not be great at taking risks, but I’m really good at
learning lessons. Lesson. Learned.
I don’t love adventure or new places—I tend to love comfort and
security more. I like knowing what to expect and how to do things. Living
abroad provides neither of those comforts. It is a constant learning process,
which is tiring. I think of other people, maybe people I’ve seen on the Travel
channel or just people I’ve imagined, and they enjoy, even embrace all the differences of new cultures. I see their smiling, excited
faces as they taste new, unfamiliar, possibly laden with hepatitis cuisine. I
see them, without reservation, butchering the language and being so proud of
themselves just for trying. They move through this new land with the awe and
wonder of a child. This is not what I look like. I look
more like the dejected teenager in high school who can’t open her locker, has
broccoli in her teeth, and thinks everyone is laughing at her. Living abroad,
for me, is definitely a huge serving of Humble Pie.
2. I am busy, that much is true. I am busy learning how life works in
Mexico; I am busy taking care of my family; I am busy watching American TV
because it feels like home. It’s also true that we have an amazing group of
friends here and we are making new friends every week. All of this truth,
though, doesn’t mean that I don’t miss all my friends from home more than I can
adequately communicate. Being known by someone is the ultimate gift; being
understood, even when saying all the wrong things, is invaluable; and being
loved for everything that I am and am not, is a true picture of grace. I don’t
know why I get to have people like this in my life, but I am so thankful for
them. These are not friendships that can be duplicated or replaced and so I
cherish them. I am never too busy to miss you.
3. Living on other peoples’ money is simultaneously humbling and
slightly stressful. We do not ever take lightly the fact that we are here
because we have people supporting us monthly. We understand that every check
that is written is a sacrifice. We try to continually express our thanks to
everyone who supports us in any way because we are so
thankful. Like filled-to-the-brim
thankful. It is nothing short of a miracle, in our eyes, that we are here. We
also know that life happens, finances change, people forget to write checks.
And so I live in between thankfulness and worry. And yet each month, it
all works out, and I’m learning to worry less. Living on support is also part
of the Humble Pie that I was eating in point number 1. It’s this reminder of
how small I am and how it takes so many of us, working together, to create
beauty in broken places. None of us can do it alone.
4. I’ve been having a slight
faith crisis for several years now. Sometimes major things and sometimes not.
Something that has nagged me forever, it seems, is never being enough or doing
enough. In my mind, I can always do more and be better. The concept of being
content can be foreign to me at times because I confuse it with apathy and
apathy is unproductive. What I really long for is that settled feeling in my
heart that says, “you are enough”. Most days, I don’t have it. I have a feeling
though, that no matter what I do or where I go, it will never feel like enough.
Part of this journey of living here has involved stripping away everything that
once gave me value—my education, my language skills, my friends, etc—and
realizing that I have value with or without those things. I am extravagantly
loved by God, not because I have a college degree or can tell amusing stories,
but because I am worthy of love. My name literally means “worthy of love” and
yet it’s so hard for me to believe, that without accomplishments, that is true.
But I need to believe it because right now I have almost nothing to offer,
except for embarrassing stories.
The good news is, I’m not rocking and crying in a corner, figuring
out how to get out of here. No matter how hard it is, it’s not impossible. No
matter how frustrating the language barrier can be, we can communicate. No
matter how lonely it can feel at times, we have technology that let’s us
connect with our far-away-friends. And we have funny cat videos on YouTube.
Seriously, who doesn’t love watching a cat trying to jump over a baby gate and
not clear it?!
I think it’s fair to paint a realistic picture of life for others
while I think it’s unfair to whine about life. So, we are happy. We are tired.
We are thankful. We are worried. We are figuring it out. We are eating Humble
Pie daily. We are here. We are living in the tension of all of the above, and
we wouldn’t change it. Really, we wouldn’t. Sometimes, the hardest things we do
are the most rewarding and fulfilling. This is one of those things. Along with
raising children and being married. And living in a college dorm room with a
stranger. Nope, that was just hard. Not rewarding. Or fulfilling.
