Wow.
What a whirlwind of a month it has been.
So many thoughts, emotions, processing, laughs, tears, friends, family, yummy food, love, and beauty. I really didn't know how I would feel being back in Canada again. I was actually a little apprehensive about the summer, like I talked about in my last post, not knowing what being at home would be like, or how I would feel about it.
... Whether or not I would find it hard to accept that a lot has changed.
... Whether or not I would feel out of place.
... Whether or not I'd have reverse culture shock, as I had been told to be prepared for.
... Whether or not I'd find it weird to be the racial majority again (since I had gotten used to being the minority in Cambo).
... Whether or not I'd be freezing cold all of the time.
My first day or two here was WEIRD. I had basically forgotten about many "normal" aspects of how life is done here, like how to drive (like seriously forgot how to start a car... my parents were concered, haha), how to use my debit card, how expensive everything is (and taxes on top of that!), how to fill up my car with gas, tipping at restaurants, how carpet felt under my feet, that the sun doesn't set until 9:00 pm!! (compared to 6:30 pm all year round in Cambo), that it's okay to walk in my neighborhood at night, etc.
But after a few days, I had gotten over jet lag and had re-adjusted to a lot of those things already. It's amazing how adaptable we are as humans, especially when we return to what we've known for so long.
My adjustment here has been surprisingly smooth and my time here has been refreshing and full of joy. But now comes the honesty... The strange thing is that even though I am thankful for the wonderful break I am having, an expected and strong emotion that I've been wrestling with is guilt. The same questions always seem to be buzzing around my head…
"Is it wrong that I love being home again?"
So many thoughts, emotions, processing, laughs, tears, friends, family, yummy food, love, and beauty. I really didn't know how I would feel being back in Canada again. I was actually a little apprehensive about the summer, like I talked about in my last post, not knowing what being at home would be like, or how I would feel about it.
... Whether or not I would find it hard to accept that a lot has changed.
... Whether or not I would feel out of place.
... Whether or not I'd have reverse culture shock, as I had been told to be prepared for.
... Whether or not I'd find it weird to be the racial majority again (since I had gotten used to being the minority in Cambo).
... Whether or not I'd be freezing cold all of the time.
My first day or two here was WEIRD. I had basically forgotten about many "normal" aspects of how life is done here, like how to drive (like seriously forgot how to start a car... my parents were concered, haha), how to use my debit card, how expensive everything is (and taxes on top of that!), how to fill up my car with gas, tipping at restaurants, how carpet felt under my feet, that the sun doesn't set until 9:00 pm!! (compared to 6:30 pm all year round in Cambo), that it's okay to walk in my neighborhood at night, etc.
But after a few days, I had gotten over jet lag and had re-adjusted to a lot of those things already. It's amazing how adaptable we are as humans, especially when we return to what we've known for so long.
My adjustment here has been surprisingly smooth and my time here has been refreshing and full of joy. But now comes the honesty... The strange thing is that even though I am thankful for the wonderful break I am having, an expected and strong emotion that I've been wrestling with is guilt. The same questions always seem to be buzzing around my head…
"Is it wrong that I love being home again?"
"Shouldn't I be counting down the days to return to the people and country I'm serving?"
"It is self-centered to be greatly appreciating the conveniences of life here... like a dryer, shopping for clothes that actually fit, more selection in food, cooler weather, sweaters & scarves, talking to friends and family without having to rely on sketchy Skype..?"
I’ve heard it said that comparison is the thief of joy, and I’ve seen that to be true time and time again in my life. I am easily tempted to compare myself to friends and other missionaries who feel really called to serve in Cambodia (or other places in the developing world) long-term. In my head, I know that each of our stories are different – that God will use our unique lives in different ways – but my heart is so prone to those feelings of comparison.
I’m not saying I don’t love the life and adventures I’ve been able to have (and will soon again have!) in Cambodia.
I’m
not saying I don’t want to go back.
I’m
not saying I don’t miss the people who have found their way into the deep parts
of my heart this year.
I
know I’m supposed to go back. I know that God led me to this school, this
opportunity, and that is was for a reason that I signed a two-year contract. For this season, I am a teacher at Asian Hope
International School, and I am so thankful for the ways I’ve grown and the
blessings I’ve seen, big and small, because I am living and teaching in
Cambodia.
This past weekend was so good for my heart – exactly what I needed. I got to reunite with some of the wonderful friends I made this year in Cambodia, as we went to Charleston, South Carolina, to witness the simply beautiful marriage of our dear friends Anna and Anthony. Karen and I got to spend a lot of time together, exploring Charleston and reliving memories from the past year. This weekend made me really excited to go back to my second home in Phnom Penh and to see what’s in store for my next year of life there.
This past weekend was so good for my heart – exactly what I needed. I got to reunite with some of the wonderful friends I made this year in Cambodia, as we went to Charleston, South Carolina, to witness the simply beautiful marriage of our dear friends Anna and Anthony. Karen and I got to spend a lot of time together, exploring Charleston and reliving memories from the past year. This weekend made me really excited to go back to my second home in Phnom Penh and to see what’s in store for my next year of life there.
I
recently read a book that I can’t get off of my mind. It’s called “The Hardest
Peace” and was written by a woman named Kara Tippetts, who recently passed away
after a long battle with cancer. The book was published before she passed away,
and in it she shares her story and how God has used the hard of cancer to show
her His grace in the small moments. Her blog was called “Mundane Faithfulness.”
That book is totally rocking my perspective... As I sit here and think about the decision of whether or not I will renew my contract at Asian Hope. At this point in my life, this decision is my “hard.” But, unless I die tomorrow, I can know with confidence that more “hard” is to come. And chances are that I will look back later in life at this decision and say something along these lines to my 25-year-old self, “You thought that was hard? You had no idea what was coming.” Because it’s that how life works? There is always hard… sometimes hard that feels impossible. I cannot believe the hard that Kara had to endure in her short life of 30-something years. But, as Kara so beautifully writes in her book, there is also beauty. And that beauty is most appreciated after and during the experience of trial, struggle, suffering, challenge, sickness, and pain.
Many parts of Kara’s book hit me profoundly. In one section, she talks about the small book, “The Prayer of Jabez” that was popular among Christians awhile ago. The book focused on a small verse in 1 Chronicles 4:10: “Jabez called upon the God of Israel saying, “Oh that you would bless me and enlarge my border, and that your hand might be with me, and that you would keep me from harm so that it might not bring me pain!” In her book, Kara says, “…We liked what this verse seemed to offer – plenty without pain. Who didn’t want the offerings of great borders and no suffering? … I grieve my own thirst for comfort, ease, plenty without pain… I would be lying if I said I still don’t long for those extended borders in my life and he absence of pain. But what if that prayer was meant for Jabez and simply for Jabez? Maybe the part of the prayer that is meant for each of us if that God’s hand might be with us. And simply that. …We all wanted more and ease, and we wanted to use God to get it. But we are not the Author of our story. We are the characters.”
So maybe I need to get over myself and realize that it’s not about me. Maybe it’s not about whether or not I return to Cambodia after next year. Maybe it’s about a bigger story God is weaving through each of our lives. Reading Kara’s book made me understand that so much of that story, I am not yet aware of. So much more hard and so much more beauty is still to come in my life and in all of our lives. It’s not something we like to think about… We are scared about what we do not yet know. We want control. We want to know each next stage that is coming. But we are forced to accept that that’s just not how life works, no matter where we live or what we do.
Nothing comforts me more than knowing that God knows. There is no reason to fear, and no reason to worry about anything more than today. My prayer is that God would continue to teach me, like Kara, to learn to live faithfully in every moment; in the joy, in the hard, and in the mundane.
