One-fourth of our time in
Honduras is finished. On one hand, I feel like we've been here
forever! On the other, it seems like we just arrived. Time is a
strange thing. Before we get any father into our stay here, I want
to take time to reflect on these first three months and write about
what I've learned so far.
I feel like these beginning
months have been mostly about me . . . how I'm adjusting, how I feel,
what I've learned. I want our time here to be more focused on
others, but so far it's been just trying to keep my head above water
in my new responsibilities and in a new place. It's kind of like how
flight attendants tell you to put on your own oxygen mask before
helping others. I think I've finally got mine on correctly now and
can start helping others. But so far it's been just trying to get
myself functioning. I'm learning that I'm not as adaptable as I
thought I was. When I've gone on short-term trips to other
countries, I think I've done a pretty good job of adapting to the
surroundings and adjusting to the way of life. But that's only for a
couple weeks at a time. Living somewhere else is a whole
different ball game.
Before we came, I knew
there would be challenges, but dealing with them has been much harder
than I expected. It's kind of like when we adopted for the first
time—I knew ahead of time that it would be difficult, but I had no
idea what that meant until I lived through it—months of depression
and feelings of disillusionment, and experiencing like never before
how desperately I need my Savior. Moving here hasn't been quite
as intense, but pretty close. I think the biggest shock to my
system has been the loss of my feelings of competency and
independence. For example, at home I feel like I know what I'm
doing—in my career, at my church, in running errands, in managing
the household, etc. Not so much here. At home I drive wherever I
need to go, at any time and without anxiety. Here, I know how to go
to about two places, and only in the daylight. At home, I pay the
bills and do the shopping. Here, Heath does both because doing
either one brings me more stress than I can handle. At home, I can
communicate my needs and talk about my feelings and share whatever
information I want. Here, I'm like a toddler trying to speak, but I
still have adult-size thoughts I'm trying to share, and an
adult-sized desire to be polite and friendly, so it's very
frustrating! I think that once again God is chiseling away at the
pride and self-sufficiency that are so much a part of my comfortable
American life, and showing me (yet again) that I cannot do life on my
own. I desperately need Him, and—even more humbling to admit—I
need other people! There's no self-sufficiency left when you need
help doing even the most basic things. The friendships we've been
making here are a huge blessing, both for the relationships and the
practical survival help!
Something else I've been
noticing is not as “spiritual” but is quite interesting. In
reading a lot of adoption literature, one of the things I recently
learned is that when the brain feels too much fear or anxiety, it
loses its higher functioning abilities. I've seen this in Tabitha if
I push too hard or start to show frustration (in things like teaching
math or correcting her behavior) she will shut down and be unable to
think rationally at all. The anxiety makes it impossible for her to
learn or remember or think straight. Well, I think I've been
experiencing this myself lately. While I'm not normally a fearful
person, the experience of living in a culture I'm not used to and
having a job where I don't feel competent produces a lot of
underlying anxiety. I don't always realize it's there, but I find
myself struggling to think straight and having difficulty remembering
things. The ongoing stress and anxiety definitely take their toll,
and I need to make sure I find ways to relax and reduce stress on a
regular basis, if I want to have a chance of accomplishing anything!
Honestly, these internal
struggles have filled most of my thoughts and taken most of my energy
for the past three months. As humans we often think we're going to
go and do “such and such,” but the Lord has His plans of what He
will be accomplishing. And many times I find that it's more about
what He's doing in my own life than it is about what work I'm doing
for Him.
Which brings me to another
of my first-quarter thoughts. What is a “missionary?” Is there
really a difference between the “missionary” and the “regular
Christian?” Before we left home I didn't really think of us as
becoming “missionaries.” Missionaries are those really spiritual
people who go throughout the world preaching wherever they go!
They're on fire for Christ and are extremely passionate about
evangelism. I'm none of those things . . . not “really spiritual,”
not equipped with a personality that really gets “on-fire” about
anything, and evangelism scares the stuffing out of me! And yet,
most people consider us “missionaries” now. We're invited to all
the “missionary” events here, we're introduced as “missionaries,”
and most people in the States think of us as missionaries as well,
even if just for a year.
I guess people use the term
to mean someone who is in full-time “Christian service” (whatever
that means); usually, but not always, living in a culture other than
their own; and dependent on others for their financial needs. We're
in a different culture, and we're dependent on others for support,
but beyond that things are pretty much the same. We still have the
same strengths and weaknesses as before, we still struggle with the
same sins. Becoming a “missionary” hasn't magically made me any
better at evangelism, or more consistent in my prayer life, or more
full of compassion, or any of those things. I do hope that God is
using this experience to change me in all of those ways, but I'm not
any more holy than I was back at home, or any more spiritual than
those who serve Christ in the USA. We are ALL called to be in
full-time Christian service. When we go back home, we won't be
finished serving Him. No matter where we live, we are supposed to be
devoting our lives to His service, worshiping Him through every
aspect of our days, sharing about Him with others, seeking to know
Him more. We don't have any more or less responsibility for any of
that based on where we live or where we work or who pays our salary.
While “regular” people
may have the same responsibility to serve Christ that “missionaries”
do, being here has indeed given me an greater appreciation for those
in “full-time missions.” Just in these few months I've been able
to see and experience some of the challenges and difficulties that
they face. It's also helped me realize that they are just “real
people.” They don't have super powers that make it easy for them
here or make them perfect Christians. They're real people who are
willing to serve Christ in a way that's different and “abnormal,”
but real people nonetheless. And I hope that after we go back, I'll
remember what it feels like to be in a strange land, far from home,
not always sure about what you're doing, not always confident that
you're succeeding. And hopefully I'll be better at praying for
missionaries, and supporting them—not just financially, but with
communication and encouragement. They're not Super-Christians;
they're fellow members of the body of Christ who need our support.
I think being here has also
opened my eyes to things I take for granted. I've been to several
countries and always come back feeling so grateful for the comforts
and conveniences we enjoy in America. This time is no exception, and
I'm sure I'll be more grateful than ever for certain things when we
get back! At the same time though, I hope that I'm getting closer to
being content in any and every situation. Just as physical exercise
is good for strengthening the body, I think the “soul exercise”
of living in less convenient circumstances is good for strengthening
character. It's interesting to see that there are happy people and
miserable people no matter what country you're in and no matter what
material goods you have or don't have. We can choose to live in
gratitude and contentment—or choose not to—no matter what our
situation. My goal (which I have a very long way to go to attain) is
to rejoice in the Lord always, no matter the circumstances.
Being here is a strength-building exercise on the path to that goal.
One last thing that has
been neat during this first quarter is to see our relationships with
the people here growing and changing. When you come on a short-term
trip there's a tendency to become enamored with everyone and
everything here. It's an intense but shallow friendship. When you
live here, the novelty wears off and the people are just people. The
longer we're here, the less awareness of “us” and “them” I
have. Sometimes I forget we're not the same nationality or race, or
even that we speak different languages. With a few people, we're
developing friendships that I'm sure will last for many years. My
view of the Honduran children has gone through several levels as
well. When we visited, it was “oh those poor sweet little
children.” Moving here it quickly became “oh those little devils
who make teaching so difficult!” And now, as I've adjusted to the
classroom and am getting to know the kids individually, it's more
like, “Oh my precious students. Even though they're difficult
sometimes, teaching them is quite a privilege, and I'm pretty sure
I'm learning more from them than they are from me. What a blessing
they are!”
While these first three
months have had their share of difficulties, I do feel very blessed
to have this opportunity. I know our family will be stronger, our
worldviews will be more accurate, and our lives richer because of it.
Praise the Lord for the gifts He gives, and the grace He provides
every day.
