Packing
It's time to pack. I've checked everything else off the list, and only one more day of work. But it's the actual shuffling clothes from hangers and drawers into a suitcase that I'm procrastinating on. Ok, it's not like I'm waiting until the last minute, since I don't leave until Monday. But if I don't pack before Sunday, I won't sleep over the weekend. And I will need all the sleep I can get before this trip.
This whole preparation process has been more emotional than I thought it would be. I've been planning and saving for this trip since I left Yap, Micronesia in 2012. I suppose a brief review of the story might explain the mild emotional roller coaster...
In November of 2009, I got a late-night phone call. It was the chaplain at Southern, asking me to verify that we had a student missionary named Kirsten Wolcott, since I worked in the student missions office. I said yes, she was teaching in Yap. And that's how I heard the news that Kirsten had been murdered during an early morning jog in Yap on November 19. The next few weeks were a blur of listening to students process the tragedy, helping students sign up to be student missionaries (amazingly), including one for Yap, finishing my Masters degree in Christian Psychological Studies, and waking up one morning with a clear calling like I'd never felt before. The actual words that went through my mind were, "Why can't I go?"
So I went to Yap. I ended up finishing out the school year with Kirsten's 2nd graders. I had no idea what I was doing, but I felt God with me in every detail of every day. I felt inadequate, but I felt His presence. I learned a lot about teaching, and a lot about love. Those kids found their way deep into my heart, and we healed together. We talked about heaven often, and they always prayed for the Wolcotts. The community of other missionaries there was also incredible. We took on the spiritual warfare seriously and prayed together often, and played together just as much.
Coming back home was rough. I was pretty much depressed, and didn't know what to do next, but God found a good place for me to heal and grow at Camp Wawona in Yosemite as a task force worker for 10 months. But I missed Yap--a lot. I prayed a lot about it, thought a lot about it, had many conversations, and decided to check the door to go back to Yap. God clearly opened it, so I went back.
The 2011-12 school year in Yap was a completely different experience. We had another great group of missionaries, lots of quality after-school or substitute teaching time with elementary kids (since I was the Registrar this time), and plenty of spiritual warfare. It started with a student missionary named Pamela who had appendicitis in September. Her incision site got infected, so I flew with her to Guam for treatment. After a few weeks, we thought all was well and headed back to Yap. But within a few weeks, her infection got worse. And I came down with dengue fever. We both left Yap again in October--she headed to Canada for recovery, and I stayed in Guam for a few weeks before deciding I needed to head home to recover as well.
But we both stubbornly returned to Yap in January! We were excited for our fresh start with lots of ideas on how to redeem our lost time. However, on day two of my return, I broke my ankle--real bad. After setting it and waiting for the swelling to go down, I was shipped off to Hawaii for surgery and recovery for the month of February, during which time Pamela's infection returned with a complicated life-threatening twist, and she was forced to return to Guam and then home.
I was able to return to Yap in March, and even though most of those last months in Yap were spent on crutches, God taught me so much about true mission work. He taught me that it wasn't about me and my control--it was about Jesus and His work in me and through me and around me, if I was willing to set aside my expectations and frustrations and take prayer seriously. I felt useless at times, more of a burden on my fellow missionaries than a help. But I prayed a lot, because it was the only thing I could do. And I learned to accept support and encouragement and realize that my value was based on being God's child a whole lot more than anything I could do for Him.
I left in June 2012--a year earlier than I'd planned. I felt like I'd finished the race, but not the way I'd
wanted. I struggled with the "what-ifs," and missed my friends--and especially those kids. We kept in contact, and I cherished every video clip, card, and photo sent. They were my kids, and yet I knew they were really God's kids. He had been watching over them long before Kirsten or I showed up, and I could tell He was still taking good care of them as He sent great teachers to guide them through middle school. But I still missed them a lot.
Over the last few years, I've been able to let go of Yap. Less dreams, less notes and cards and photos. They will always be in my heart, but I have a mission here that God has called me to, and it needs my full attention.
And yet...the day is almost here--their graduation from 8th grade--June 16, 2016. Sixteen graduates. Kirsten's mom, Karen, and I are flying out on Monday--she's giving the commencement, and I'm giving the teacher's tribute (which I still need to write). It's hard to imagine what it will be like. I mostly imagine tears and smiles. I think they will be good tears though. I can't wait to see their older faces and hear their deeper voices. It reminds me a little bit of what heaven will be like, minus the jet lag.
I decided to try to document this journey here on my blog. I figured a review of how I got here might be the best place to start--for anyone who happens to read this, and for myself.
Prayers are deeply appreciated.
And now...I better start packing.
This whole preparation process has been more emotional than I thought it would be. I've been planning and saving for this trip since I left Yap, Micronesia in 2012. I suppose a brief review of the story might explain the mild emotional roller coaster...
In November of 2009, I got a late-night phone call. It was the chaplain at Southern, asking me to verify that we had a student missionary named Kirsten Wolcott, since I worked in the student missions office. I said yes, she was teaching in Yap. And that's how I heard the news that Kirsten had been murdered during an early morning jog in Yap on November 19. The next few weeks were a blur of listening to students process the tragedy, helping students sign up to be student missionaries (amazingly), including one for Yap, finishing my Masters degree in Christian Psychological Studies, and waking up one morning with a clear calling like I'd never felt before. The actual words that went through my mind were, "Why can't I go?"
So I went to Yap. I ended up finishing out the school year with Kirsten's 2nd graders. I had no idea what I was doing, but I felt God with me in every detail of every day. I felt inadequate, but I felt His presence. I learned a lot about teaching, and a lot about love. Those kids found their way deep into my heart, and we healed together. We talked about heaven often, and they always prayed for the Wolcotts. The community of other missionaries there was also incredible. We took on the spiritual warfare seriously and prayed together often, and played together just as much.
The 2011-12 school year in Yap was a completely different experience. We had another great group of missionaries, lots of quality after-school or substitute teaching time with elementary kids (since I was the Registrar this time), and plenty of spiritual warfare. It started with a student missionary named Pamela who had appendicitis in September. Her incision site got infected, so I flew with her to Guam for treatment. After a few weeks, we thought all was well and headed back to Yap. But within a few weeks, her infection got worse. And I came down with dengue fever. We both left Yap again in October--she headed to Canada for recovery, and I stayed in Guam for a few weeks before deciding I needed to head home to recover as well.
But we both stubbornly returned to Yap in January! We were excited for our fresh start with lots of ideas on how to redeem our lost time. However, on day two of my return, I broke my ankle--real bad. After setting it and waiting for the swelling to go down, I was shipped off to Hawaii for surgery and recovery for the month of February, during which time Pamela's infection returned with a complicated life-threatening twist, and she was forced to return to Guam and then home.
I left in June 2012--a year earlier than I'd planned. I felt like I'd finished the race, but not the way I'd
wanted. I struggled with the "what-ifs," and missed my friends--and especially those kids. We kept in contact, and I cherished every video clip, card, and photo sent. They were my kids, and yet I knew they were really God's kids. He had been watching over them long before Kirsten or I showed up, and I could tell He was still taking good care of them as He sent great teachers to guide them through middle school. But I still missed them a lot.
And yet...the day is almost here--their graduation from 8th grade--June 16, 2016. Sixteen graduates. Kirsten's mom, Karen, and I are flying out on Monday--she's giving the commencement, and I'm giving the teacher's tribute (which I still need to write). It's hard to imagine what it will be like. I mostly imagine tears and smiles. I think they will be good tears though. I can't wait to see their older faces and hear their deeper voices. It reminds me a little bit of what heaven will be like, minus the jet lag.
I decided to try to document this journey here on my blog. I figured a review of how I got here might be the best place to start--for anyone who happens to read this, and for myself.
Prayers are deeply appreciated.
And now...I better start packing.
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