I had just finished another Tuesday, the longest day of ministry in my week. That morning, we had left the house at 6:30 so we could have enough time to catch both of the two buses it takes to get to Sel, a school just outside of Antigua. After about 4 classes, we rushed to the next school, Inebe, and had two more classes.
We climbed onto the bus and immediately realized that we wouldn’t be sitting down, which was no surprise for a bus out of the city at 5 p.m. With some difficulty and awkwardness, I found a spot to stand inches away from the door and I held on tightly to the metal railing.
The past few days had been hard for me. On Monday, our entire squad left the house to stay with different ministries in different cities in Guatemala. In a matter of hours, the house went from having forty people on six teams to just twelve girls on two different teams. This mass exodus was something I had been looking forward to, but once everyone had left, something felt off. That night was very quiet. I had been looking forward to having some quiet moments, but this kind of quiet felt empty and like something was missing, not like the relaxing serenity I was looking forward to.
Without all the noise of forty teenagers filling the house, I had a lot of time to think and a lot of time to realize what I had gotten myself into. It hit me that night that I wouldn’t be seeing my friends and family for a long time. The stage of deeply missing home began to set in.
I had so much time to reflect on the seasons of my life and was blown away with gratefulness for the deep relationships and incredible things I got the chance to be a part of. From my time at Arcadia Christian School to my small group of girls to my love for theater, there have been so many parts of my world that have made life worth living.
More than even missing my friends and family, I was afraid of leaving behind the aspects of these relationships that made me miss them. I was afraid of leaving behind the feeling you get when you recall an amazing memory, the repetition of church Wednesday’s and Sunday’s, and the sense of belonging I get when I walk into my school’s theater. I was losing my tradition, my community, and all of it bonded with the deepest of relationships bonded with the deepest of love.
On top of all of these emotions, this Tuesday happened to be my 18th birthday; the first birthday I would spend without my twin brother. It was strange for me to think of my family at our kitchen table, gathered around a homemade cake and singing happy birthday to my brother while, meanwhile, I was crammed in between two strangers on a school bus in Guatemala.
As I was thinking about all of these things and having a mini pity-party, I glanced to the back of the bus. I immediately recognized the face of one of my teammates among the dozens of unfamiliar passengers. We smiled at each other and waved; it’s not uncommon to meet a teammate on the bus home. While we were still making eye contact, she held up a sunflower and then gestured that it was for me. In that moment, I was beyond happy. I had mentioned before that sunflowers are my favorite flower, but I wasn’t expecting anyone to go out of their way to get me one for my birthday! Before I left home, I had planted sunflowers and sent sunflower seeds to my supporters to plant and think of me by. Sunflowers had become a kind of symbol of home and community, and getting one as a gift in that moment meant more than I could express. The rest of the bus ride home, I couldn’t stop smiling.
That night, my team decorated my bunk bed, made me dinner, and sang me happy birthday with candles and a homemade chocolate cake. I even got to talk to my family and be on the phone when they sang happy birthday to my brother! It was an amazing evening and I felt so, so loved.
Through my birthday experience and prayer in the next few days, God gave me a new perspective on the way I miss home. I realized that the parts I missed about relationships, the deep love and community I was afraid of losing, is all from God. I can see now how God’s hand was in my life in the development of extremely meaningful friendships and community. Each season of my life that my soul is so connected to was crafted and shaped by God. I don’t need to be afraid of losing any of these things because God is the source of all of it and God is still with me here in Guatemala. He is already shaping and forming new relationships, new community, new traditions, and new unforgettable memories.
Now that I trust Him with this part of my life, I miss home in a different way. I still sit and think about all the great memories and even greater people, but instead of grieving the loss of them in my life for the next nine months, I celebrate and give thanks for the times we’ve had. Something that has completely transformed my attitude is praying over my loved ones at home. Just as I am entering into a new season in my life, all of them are as well, and God has set out new and beautiful things for all of us.
Since realizing this, I’m keeping my eyes open for God’s hand in this new season of my life. I see it when I walk into a coffee shop and the barista knows my name. I feel it when I sit around a dinner table and eat a home made meal with my team every day after teaching at school. Something my mom said in a card she wrote me before I left that has helped me a lot is “In Christ we will be connected always and forever no matter where we each are”. I’m looking forward to the day I come home, but I’m also so excited to see what God has for me every day in between then and now.
Thank you so much for all the prayers and encouragement. I can’t believe that it’s almost been a month since I’ve been gone!
Love,
Abby in Antigua 🙂
“Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup, you have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance… You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence.”
Psalm 16: 5-6, 11
