We have had the World Race team here for about one week now. The first week was a bit difficult for us. I was in the middle of applying for temporary residency and the day before they arrived, I got Chikungunya. Not the best timing to have a team.
We ended up going to migration four different times (2 hour drive each way). My visa expired last Thursday, so we were on a time crunch to get it done. Thankfully, after our fourth visit, they gave me a 3-month trial period residency card. After three months, we have to go through this process again in hopes of receiving residency for one year.
Chikungunya is a disease transmitted through mosquitos. The disease presents itself with a fever, rash, inflammation and pain in your joints, and sometimes nausea and sores in mouth. I thought I was gonna be one of the lucky ones who wouldn’t get the disease, but I was wrong. Within the first 24 hours of my sickness, I went to the doctor and he put an iv in to administer the drugs directly to my blood system that would prevent inflammation and fever from progressing. If anyone knows me, than you know that I am terrified of needles. Terrified to the point of tears even just thinking about an injection. I also visited Victor’s family’s house for an injection that would stop the rash. His family and I have gotten to know each other on a whole new level. I laid on his mom’s bed crying out for Jesus while his sister pulled down my jeans and injected me in the butt. It is not one of my proudest moments. His sister made sure to publicize on facebook that I am the biggest crybaby patient she has ever had. Icing on the cake.
I thought that having the team here would encourage me and give me a new excitement for the ministry we are doing…but instead they have been a reminder of home and what I have left behind.
I have visited the doctor four times since Victor and I got married. It’s been a tough three months. All of this is finally taking its toll on me. It just makes me tired and weary. Somedays I think what is the point. What am I doing here? I am sick all the time. I miss friends and family. Somedays its hard to keep going.
As the team starts their month ten of the race, I start my month ten of living here in El Salvador. They have one more month before heading back home. They are excited about “coming home” parties and warm showers.
My month ten is different than theirs. Next month is not my last. I don’t go home for good. I have to keep going. It is finally sinking in what I have committed to.
I had one of those moments yesterday where I just wanted to quit and go home. I started thinking about relationships. All the relationships I have left behind and sacrificed. It’s easier to sacrifice relationships when it’s a trip and you can return and rekindle those relationships. It’s a lot harder to sacrifice relationships not knowing when you will have the opportunity to rekindle those relationships again or how many things you will miss out on in their lives.
I sent a text to Carie (the local Canadian missionary) and told her that I was feeling homesick. Reality was setting in. This isn’t the world race. I am not going home next month. This is my life.
She told me something true but hard to swallow. She said that she has had to mourn the loss of relationships and learn to let go.
That was probably the last thing that I wanted to hear. I didn’t want to hear that I had to mourn. I didn’t want to hear that I had to let go.
But the truth is that I do have to.
I have to accept the fact that my relationships with my family and friends can’t be the same that they were in the past. I have to let go of the idea that we can be as close as we were. We are now separated by distance, culture, and life. Not saying that I completely forget these relationships. But I do have to accept the fact that they are different now.
I have to mourn the relationships that I have left in America.
Recently I have been thinking back to college. Man I loved college. I loved living in close proximity to my best friends. I loved the atmosphere and learning. Sometimes I secretly wish I could go back, but I know it wouldn’t be the same because the people that made the experience aren’t there anymore.
I also keep thinking about the World Race. I loved the world race. I loved the people on my squad and teams. It was amazing experiencing the world with others. And I keep wishing I could go back. But it wouldn’t be the same.
Those seasons are over. And right now I have to accept the season that I am in. But my heart breaks. A part of my heart is here and a part of my heart is in America. This is by far the hardest part to being a missionary.
I care deeply for people. I love my best friends from college and I wish we could just all live in houses on the same street. I love my little sister so much and just wish I was able to see her everyday. I love my mom and being able to come to her for advice whenever I need help. I love my relationships.
But right now they aren’t the same as they used to be and I have to mourn over my loss. I have to let my heart break, because that’s what happens when you care.
I keep thinking about the verse that says, whoever leaves his father, mother, sister, brother, friends, etc. will receive a reward. That verse is so much harder than I ever imagined.
So here is the beginning of my mourning. Pray that God will give me the strength I need to keep going and serving where He has called me.
The team sharing at the schools.
