“It’s better to be healthy than close,” a dear friend and teammate of mine says to me as we swing in our hammocks overlooking the Malealea mountains.
If you can’t maintain healthy boundaries between you and a family member, you’re better off loving them from a distance.
You reach an impasse. On one hand, you can’t “fix” or rescue anyone. You’re only responsible for your being, thoughts, and actions. On the other hand, if the other person is unwilling or not ready to engage in healthy communication, you’re left with distance. Impasse.
The ball is in their court.
At first, acknowledging this truth hurt. It’s a lonely feeling when you can’t have family relationships that you desperately want to see through and make work.
I can honestly say, my picture of “family” is continually changing. As I get older, I’m learning more and more of where to draw the line in the sand. I have to have boundaries and undo years of being a “rescuer.” Without that role to play, there’s little to do, but ask: what are you going to do about your problem?
I can’t carry anyone. I can’t be the glue. It’s hard, but I’m learning to let God do the work I can’t.
My job is to pray and never give up on family. To have hope that one day things will be healthy. Distance is okay in the mean time.
That’s where boundaries come in. I’ve been learning a lot about boundaries in Africa.
Mostly through this book I highly recommend called Keep Your Love On. It’s about communication, trust, boundaries, and choosing to love people no matter what.
Africa is the perfect place to learn about boundaries. Mainly because so many kind, well meaning Africans break them.
American culture and African culture are vastly different.
In America, we value this ideal called alone time. In Africa, it can be seen as rude to not want to hangout with people all the time wherever you are.
Last month in Zimbabwe, our team found ourselves drained from the extroversion required of us. We talked to strangers for hours; ministering to them.
Stopped for lunch and talked to more strangers who flocked around us. Often asking the same surface level questions. People never stopped staring or wanting a piece of our attention. (I suddenly felt for people who live in the limelight).
We’d get home, still living with the 7 of each other 24/7 mind you, and then our ministry hosts family and friends dropping by would want to hangout.
Without setting honest and direct boundaries and taking time we needed to ourselves, we would have been more than drained. We would have been burnt out. Burn out is a hard place to come back from.
You’d think it’d be living out of a 4×6 tent, that would be hard. Not having clean running water nearby. Mosquitoes. Flies. Living out of a pack. You’d think the trickling rain water or bucket showers would be the struggle. You’d think it’d be the witches. The feeling of fear that hits sometimes. You’d think it would be the long drops, squatty potties, and broken toilets that would wear us down. You’d think it would be the miles we walk uphill in the heat of Lesotho.
But those things hardly matter anymore.
I’ll be the first to say, I do feel close to burn out from 6 months as a missionary. I’ve never done this before. How many times can you get attached? How many times can you say goodbye, never to see them again?
How many hours can you spend digging deep ministering and not seeing visible fruit?
How much spiritual warfare can you handle?
How many holidays can you miss? How many weddings, births, and deaths can one person miss?
But here’s the kicker:
you can’t really let yourself feel the weight of all of that. This is where you’ve been called. This is your role as a child of the King of Kings. The battle is huge. I now know more than ever. This world is immensely broken and needs light.
This year is a blessing. At my core, I’m grateful beyond measure. I’ve fallen in love with people from over 7 countries, I’ve been immersed in remote cultures most will never even know existed, I’ve had the chance to push myself in many roles (I’m a 6th grade teacher right now for pete sake), and learned the basics in 4 languages.
My gratitude outweighs my burn out.
So what do zippers, doors, and bug nets have in common?
They keep things out. They protect you from intruders, spiders, snakes, water, etc.
They keep things in. They provide a cushion of safety.
Like with zippers, doors, and bugnets, we set boundaries in attempt to protect what’s most valuable to us.
Boundaries keep in what’s healthy and set apart what is not. They are flexible and done with love. They are above all essential to growth. What you let in your life is important.
Update: We move to the Philippines in 2 weeks and we’re all stoked for the change of pace in Asia! Bring on the banana lumpia.
