Great Expectations

     I remember last summer after a youth retreat, we were asked to say some things about it in church, including what our favorite part of the retreat was. I asked if I could say my favorite part was the car rides to and from the trip. I played it off as a joke, but there was a lot of truth in it.

     Don't get me wrong, that whole trip was full of great moments. But I was expecting great moments during the worship services, and at the cross on top of the mountain. I had expectations for those moments, but I never thought about the car rides. Ironically, the part of that trip that had the biggest impact on my life, and the part I will remember the most, is the part I had no expectations for.

     I think we've all got these pictures in our heads of what our lives are supposed to look like, just like I had a mental picture of what that retreat was supposed to look like. Milestones are supposed to be met at a certain time, friends and families are supposed to always be close. When these expectations don't match up with reality, it can feel deeply disappointing, even devastating. I know this from experience.

     I've had to learn that some things in life just aren't the way I wish they could be, and I think it is okay to feel saddened and disappointed by that realization. I've also discovered that while I'm busy having expectations, often the most memorable parts of life are the parts I never expected at all. Sometimes the closest friendships and strongest relationships bloom from regular moments, and sometimes the moments we remember most don't happen when we reach our expected destination, but rather when we're on the way there. 

      I don't think there is anything inherently wrong with having expectations. But I am slowly learning that my happiness should not depend on my expectations being met. Let yourself spend some time mourning the loss of the things that aren't meant to be, but not so much time that you miss out on the things, the relationships, and the moments that are. I guess what I'm saying is, don't get so caught up in waiting for those mountaintop views that you miss what is happening on the car ride to the mountains. 

Togo, the Sled Dog Who Saved Nome.

     When I was really little, I remember watching a movie that I really liked called Balto. It was an animated movie based on the real sled dog who was famous for his role in transporting medicine to remote parts of Alaska during a diphtheria epidemic in the early 1900's. There is an annual sled dog race in honor of those dogs each year, and the finish line for that race is in Nome, Alaska, where I will be moving in August. I also learned recently that there was another important dog on Balto's team, and his name was Togo. As you probably already know, I spent three weeks in Togo, Africa on my last mission trip, and that is where I decided that I wanted to pursue mission work full time.
     So why am I telling you all of this? It's not just to give you a history lesson, but you're welcome for that added bonus. It's because  I don't think of all of these things as random coincidences. In my mind, finding out about that dog who shared a name with the last place I went on a mission trip was an affirmation that Nome, where he delivered life saving medicine, truly is my next mission field. It's also a reminder of how God uses a bunch of seemingly little things working together to carry out His plans.
      I don't like to talk about growing up with a disability very often, because that's not how I want to be defined. And compared to many children, I had it pretty good, so I don't want to over-dramatize the truth and make it seem like I had some awful, traumatic childhood. Overall, it didn't bother me or even slow me down that much.  But there were a few times when things got pretty rough for a little while, and as I look forward to this exciting move to Alaska, I can't help but remember those times. These times revolved around hospital stays and long recoveries, with a fair share of setbacks and a few brushes with some pretty scary stuff, like Staph infection and one particularly scary allergic reaction to anesthesia. It was in those times that, though I was completely unaware of it, I was developing skills that I will need as a missionary.
        I was learning to trust God when things like recovering from surgery weren't happening on the timeline I would have preferred. Admittedly, I am still working on this one. I was also learning what it is like to feel isolated and alone, which is why I think I am quick to notice other people who may be feeling the same way. Most of all, I was starting to understand how vital my faith is to me, which led me to wanting to share that faith to others.
      One unfortunate side effect of going through some hard times is that I seem to have an odd habit of not processing good things very well. It's hard not to constantly be wondering when some unexpected hard time is going to derail my plans. But I'm slowly learning to let myself fully enjoy good things. I know that inevitably there will be more hard times, as there are for everyone, but if there's anything my life has taught me so far, it's that, with faith, I can make it through hard times.
     I'm so excited about the direction my life is moving in right now. And though it has taken me a long time to get to this point, I'm beginning to be thankful for hard times in my life, because now I know how important they were.

(Left) A scene from a hospital stay. There were plenty of less idyllic pictures of this time, but I decided to go with this one, where I was almost smiling, thanks to my cool new Kindle and some pretty strong painkillers. (Right) I had no idea watching this movie as a child that I would live in Nome one day.

No Turning Back

     I have a very vivid memory of standing in a brightly painted courtyard at an orphanage in what the internet claimed was "the most dangerous city in the world.", surrounded by excited children competing for hugs. It was hot, and loud, and overwhelming in the best way. I remember my friend asking me if I was okay, bringing me out of the daze I must have been in. I was okay, more okay than I had been in a long time. I felt like I had just found something I had always been looking for.
     I have another, more recent memory of sitting in the dirt surrounded by chickens in a remote village in Africa, miles from anywhere recognizable. A baby was being passed around, and after a while he was placed in my arms, naked with only a blanket to cover him. As I held him I made eye contact with his mother, or rather she made eye contact with me. We didn't speak the same language, but the look in her eyes didn't need translation. She was a mother who loved her son very much, and like all good mothers she did her best with what she had, the only problem being that she had next to nothing. She was allowing a stranger from a foreign country to hold her baby for a moment, and it was a great honor.
    There was no turning back after that moment. I returned home, returned back to my family and friends and to the motions of every day life, But something had changed inside me, something I couldn't ignore for long. So, I began what I referred to as "looking into longer term mission opportunities." And I am so excited about what I eventually found.