Why Expedition: learning to be transparent

There’s been much thought over what this next blog would consist of.

Since the last blog, which did not fully convey training and all that happened emotionally, physically, and spiritually, I have been wondering if my blogs are authentic. 

I have been wondering if I am being vulnerable.

Upon coming back to Redding, I felt out of sorts and did not feel entirely present. Going back to work was a struggle. It’s still a struggle to find the energy and drum up the enthusiasm and patience to be with my elementary school kids again.

I’m not going to lie, I have felt like a terrible aid when I didn’t plan any craft or activity for my kids this week and last. My excuse and reasons: I’m tired; this is an odd transition coming back about being gone for 2 weeks. 

Comparison has been in my face many a time recently. It told me, I didn’t write my blog like so-and-so, and I wasn’t vulnerable or as eloquent as so-and-so. Comparison had me wondering if I am sharing my heart or what I think is my heart, but I’m still hiding it and too scared to share all of it.

This comparison spurred on some thought tonight. Good thought. It took me to a place I had forgotten, a time when I was hurt but didn’t acknowledge the hurt to anyone and just hid a major piece of my heart.

The thought began with “why expedition?” Why did I choose this path through the 10/40 window? This question has been suggested by my leadership as a topic for blogposts. My leaders encourage us to be vulnerable and as transparent as we can. Transparency is what connects us. It’s not hiding our true selves. 

Transparency takes guts. 

Transparency takes trusting that I won’t get offended or upset when I don’t receive the response I had hoped for.

Transparency is taking a big gamble.

Transparency is taking off the mask and sharing something so true of myself, and I might receive rejection instead of acceptance.

In comes the train of thought I referenced earlier.

Why expedition? I was asked this question this past weekend and I started with, “well, in high school I became interested in the Middle East because of 9/11 and the war in Iraq & Afghanistan.” In my head, I want to have the answer to this question already answered. But when it was asked of me, I didn’t have a short, simple answer.

Short simple answers are not common when having a conversation with me.

Take a typical question like,

When I realize this pattern is frequent, it makes me laugh. I wonder if that means I am easy to get to know.

Back to the question at hand.

I like my answers to questions to be simple. I like it to make sense and not messy. Yet, I have found that it is not that way. My life is more messy. Not messy in a messed up and fractured way. Messy in terms of, I have to share more in order to share my life.

I think I like it that way.

I am one who wants to hear details. I am not satisfied with one word responses (though that’s how I replied for many many years).

In this mess, I found (I did not find it, Holy Spirit found it and revealed to me) a time in my life [high school], when my thoughts & a piece of my soul were captivated by the Middle East. I shared my interest with close family members, and in that transparency of Andrea, I was rejected. It surprised me.

I remember, to this day, sharing with my Grandma, wanting to go to the Middle East. We were milking cows and had the world news on. I was either a junior or senior in high school, Grandma was always wanting me to talk to her more, and we were probably talking about what I was thinking of studying in college. I had talked about my interest in the Middle East before, but this one day when I had said “I want to go there”, my Grandma’s words of “no you don’t” left a lasting imprint.

I had not shared that part of my heart to many. I was shy and timid in high school. I was not outgoing and was quiet in most social settings.

In that moment of transparency, I was rejected. I did not know why I felt so strongly interested and felt I would travel to that region someday. I was insecure already, and when I was hurt, I just stuffed it inside like I did every other time I was hurt.

Fast forward a couple years and I jump at the opportunity to study the Arabic language at college. I’m still not fully convinced I can share the piece of my heart that is drawn to the Middle East. I share it with a few close friends, but nearly all my classmates in my Arabic class did not know how strongly I felt connected to the region.

Time and time again I wondered if this was an interest or dream that I had entirely concocted on my own. I would wonder why this region was vastly bigger on the world map of my heart than in comparison to the rest of the world. Many believers I had met and bonded with had big hearts for Africa, was my heart supposed to be for Africa as well? Was there something I was not getting?

Why would I, small town, 18 year old girl who was raised on a dairy farm, on the eastern plains of Colorado in a uniform community, who hadn’t traveled very far, felt powerless and insecure, feel so called to a region so extremely different from my own?

Answer: God. 

It was the only reason that made sense. He would consistently remind me of Psalm 139:13: You made all the delicate, inner parts of my body and king me together in my mothers womb.  

He reminded me:

Andrea, I made you to carry a piece of my heart only you can carry. I made you unique. You are captivated by unique beauty many others miss or do not want to see. You are not like another. I’ve made you to carry this piece of my heart. You don’t understand it fully, and I will reveal more to you as you grow and mature.

Papa has been continually reminding me. I am still wondering in this process why the 10/40 window, because even on my best days, days I feel Him close, I still feel unqualified and unprepared. 

I still battle my thoughts to be transparent and risk rejection over acceptance.

It’s not easy. It’s a process.

But I can see progress. When I don’t risk I can only blame myself. It’s my choice.

Tonight I chose transparency.

It was a risk. It was a gamble.

Ha! I read this quote this morning, copied it in hopes of using it in a blog. I did not recall it until forming those last ^ sentences.