Well, by the title you can probably tell that I read the Hobbit last month in the Philippines. And I thought it was appropriate because of Bilbo’s adventure and the impact it has on his life, and how his love for home never changes, but he isn’t the same Hobbit he was when he left the shire.
Like Bilbo, I went on an adventure. Before I began the World Race, I went on another Adventures in Missions trip called Passport, which is a 2-3 month trip for college students. A little over a year ago, I spent two months in Tacloban City in the Philippines. We worked with Kids International Ministries (KIM), they have a home base in Manila where they are active in changing the lives of the children of manila through sports ministry, schooling, feedings, and running an orphanage for girls from abusive families. We, however, were sent to Tacloban where they had started a ministry there only several months before when Super Typhoon Yolanda had devastated the area. We walked in weary from our journey but nonetheless giddy to begin serving.
On the first day they took us on a tour. We saw the rubble of homes, uprooted palm trees, “Save Us” written on the walls in spray paint, mass graves, tent cities where people who had fled from their homes existed in makeshift tents in 2 inches of water, and the once green land was all brown with decay. My eyes widened and my heart broke as my eyes became privy to the devastation.
As strange as this place was to me, a foreigner in a foreign land, as the days passed I grew apart from the Kathleen that I left as and I became God’s Beloved. As I became his beloved, he showed me the reality of what home is. Home is a heart place, not a location.
He wrecked me, he healed me, he revealed me. I discovered that I had a co-dependent relationship with my sister which was even idolatrous, I saw for the first time my parents through the eyes of God with mercy, affection, and fondness, I started to learn what it was to be a daughter, I realized that I could never GO home again because my new resting place—where I laid my head, where I went for comfort, where I was cleansed, where I said no to bondage, and where I watched God pry chain by chain the shackles away from my wrist—changed home for me.
We fed people and those Lugaw (pooridge) bins seemed as if they were fish and loaves taking longer than they should to empty, I spoke about the gospel for the first time without fear in front of kids who did not speak my language, I played basketball with twenty 10-year-olds and God renewed my love for it, I saw God heal my teammate when medically things should have just gotten worse. I remember waking up at 5 in the morning, and I am not a morning person AT ALL, and thinking if this were the rest of my life I could wake up happy to do this life. It didn’t feel like work, or even ministry—I woke up excited for life that day simply because I had it and got to spend it with my Dad.
My team leader described ministry in the most beautiful way, one in which I still envision to this day. Ministry is like take your kid to work day. Dad’s at his desk, knowing what to say on the phone, who to contact, where to go—he moves flawlessly with grace and sureness that says I know precisely what I’m doing. And I get to sit and watch with admiration, adoration, pride, and wide-eyed wonder as Daddy goes to work and provides for me and changes the world. And every once in a while, he turns, softly smiles and asks me to staple something or photocopy it. Something he could do in his sleep, but he lets me help because I am his.
In Tacloban I fell in love with Mama J, Nixon, Nug Nug, Kim, Abby, Aira, Aaron, Beryl, Tina, and all of the Filipinos that transcended friendship to show me the meaning of family. A group bound by the strongest glue, Christ. God quieted my fear of having kids by showing me how much I could love Eliza Mae, Jon Rick, Joshua, Rodell, Elsa, Irish, Noraine and all of the other little kids that played with my hair, climbed onto my back, sang to me, came running with the words, “atte Kathleen!!!”
We whisper in our joy but we shout in our pain, I know I have fallen victim to forgetting to thank God for this one wild precious life that I have. I picked this route, trying to remain objective and ultimately becoming apathetic about returning to the Philippines, because I didn’t want to get my hopes of returning to Tacloban, to the Lighthouse, to my Filipino family. And as the months have passed, first Costa Rica, then Nicaragua, then Honduras—I am reminded that God transcends borders, tongues, human ability, you name it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it so I had come to the decision that I would use my spending money to fly to Tacloban for a day believing that inevitably we would end up somewhere else for ministry. Not only did my team get placed with KIM, but when we were, we were originally supposed to be going to another location with them, and instead we were relocated to Tacloban. My heart cried as I unwrapped this gift from God that said, “To: My precious beloved, Love: Papa”. I didn’t even pray to be in Tacloban because acknowledging the closeness yet not being there was heartbreaking, and yet—“take delight in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart” Psalm 37: 4
God said, Merry Christmas Darling.
Not only did I get to return to Tacloban, but seeing Dad provide in ways where I had shook my head and said, “there’s no way”, has ripped open the box I thought that I didn’t have him in. I have started dreaming again, like a kid, full on whimsy and all. I have been writing a prompt each month because writing, I am learning, is important for my soul, and this month’s prompt was dreaming…here’s an excerpt from it, bare with me sharing my writing (aside from blogs) is scary,
“I dream of the salvation of my family, I also want to go places in the world, I want to spread God’s word and to have my life be ministry, I want to grow a garden, I want to write a book, I dream of safari’s, and the gorgeousness of Ireland, cooking delicious things for people I love, I dream of designing and decorating my own house, surfing a damn big wave, I dream of more tattoos that I probably can’t pull off, and spending some time in an untouched part of the world. I would love to work at a zoo or a wildlife preserve for a period of time. I want to see little people who look sort of like me running around, I dream of reading on my wraparound porch, and of diving off of cliffs. I dream of brining hope to people through counseling, I dream of learning to play the banjo and strumming sweet songs in spring, I also dream of wearing mittens and sweaters again walking through whipping winds of snow, I dream of running marathons or at least half of one, I dream of being loved really really deeply by someone, I dream about running a B&B in Door County, maybe even having an apple orchard. I would love to own an antique or handmade crafts store, I want someone to buy something I painted or drew, I dream of reading my way through the whole bible and finish with an eager smile to do it again. I dream of reading all the classics, and having a grand fireplace hearing the crackle of the dry wood. I dream of believing in true things, and also believing the best of people and not expecting them to drop their other shoe. I dream of worshipping and not wondering whose watching and what I look like. I dream of baking a soufflé, of seeing the northern lights, of splatter painting a room, even of being a good guy in Avalon. I dream of riding an elephant, owning an Alpaca, and teaching my kids about the person who saved my soul. The list goes on, and I’m glad it does.
For some, the dream ends at a 401K, a vacation home, a few kids, a two-car garage, or avoiding the statistics of divorce. For all I know of the creator, I know we were made to take down the walls of Jericho, to defeat Goliath, to shut Daniel’s lion’s mouth with faith, to part seas, to save nations, to build great arks, to make the lame walk and the blind see. Those things can’t be fruit if we don’t plant the seeds of big dreams.
I don’t know which or if any of those above dreams will come true or when, but it’s fun to play in God’s promises to use the least of these, the likes of me to do the most for him. God’s not a small God, so why would his plans for his children be small? I want to cry for the non-dreamers of this world, it’s like watching the world in black and white when you can change the settings to color. I would rather dream big and fail at a dream, than not dream and fail at life.”
It was beyond beautiful to return and see all of the redemption, change, and Kingdom that is happening in Tacloban. And leaving for a second time wasn’t quite as hard because I am certain of going back, soon I hope. Amazing how, an act of insufficient faith on my part can reveal the true character of God. “If we are unfaithful—he remains faithful. For he cannot deny who he is.” -2 Timothy 2: 13. Thanks for taking me there and back again, because you know my hearts desires and I am your Beloved. Thanks Dad for teaching me to dream while I am awake again, it’s nice to have my head in the clouds; it’s nice to be lost in the right direction.
