Apart from frenzied anticipation, excitement and total adventure-related hysteria surrounding my upcoming jaunt into the mission field, I have also recently been able to pinpoint a feeling more surprising that has cropped up as the date of departure gets nearer: loss.
This particular brand of loss is deeper than the loss of your keys, or even the loss of immediate contact with your loved ones for an entire year. Instead it is a loss that begins from so deep, that it took me months to recognize what was going on. I didn’t understand what I could lose that would incite that type of mourning. So, I decided to ask in prayer.
An “answer” immediately popped into my head out of nowhere. All I “heard”, almost audibly, was the word “you”.
Then I immediately had one of those television mystery show moments. Remember how in the show “House”, he’d be struggling to figure out what was killing somebody then he’d be at a bar where someone would ask for a their drink with a lime twist and then *BAM!* all the clues came together and he knew his patient had lime disease? Well, yeah, it was kind of like that.
Although, it was never lupus.
I realized that, when I get on that plane to go do good in the name of the Goodest Doer, I won’t just be saying goodbye to the people I love, but the me that I love as well. The me who, although she is broken, she is so familiar. The me who is queen of the gray area, who has fully accessible stores of distraction to escape reality, the me who spent 26 years developing this character that she plays and knows so well.
I know the core of who I am will stay the same and I know that my temperaments and the makeup of my character will remain, but I know I will come back different. How could I not?
But, I guess, it’s okay to be different.
There are things that serve certain purposes for a time in our lives. As children (and sometimes as adults) we develop coping mechanisms for the chaos around us. We learn to maneuver, escape and manipulate the world to survive. For example, sometimes life gets messy and cluttered and we escape into a good book (or, who am I kidding, a cheesy television show).
All these things are not bad things. They all have a time and a place. However, they can begin to cause problems when they lead you to develop unhealthy habits, become what orders your steps, and/or become the walls that you constantly hide behind to keep reality at bay.
Like Old Yeller, who began as a faithful pup and incredible companion, they can become rabid. But, who wants to shoot their friends? Instead, we will often build these issues and problems a cage in the backyard and continue to feed them, rather than working through the pain in our lives to get to the freedom. And there is Freedom.
Except maybe for Old Yeller. But He was going to bite your face off, anyway.
So I know that stepping onto the plane will be the beginning of the end for some of my personal Old Yellers. And although I mourn for their loss (as silly as that sounds) and mourn for the loss of who I am and the time I am in at this moment, I know it is for good. And I know it will make my work around the world that much more effective.
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Thanks again!
Love,
