The Work of Love

     I've been working on this post for days, searching for the right way to say what's on my mind. Over and over again, I see my fellow missionaries making passionate statements about systems of oppression, and other popular buzzwords, and I support them in their desire to make those statements.  I am sometimes envious of the way my colleagues use the power of words to bring their experiences to life.

     My dilemma is that the work I do in my day to day life as a missionary doesn't match up with any popular buzzwords. To many people it may look like I just play with children all day, and while that's partially true, there's more to the story that I don't share much about because I don't want to exploit stories that don't belong to me. Many of the children I see everyday are in the foster care system, and last week there was a situation that left me feeling emotionally drained, and reminded me that there really is a need for missionaries here because there is a lot of brokenness that you might miss if you don't stay for a while and pay close attention.
   I feel that most of the time when people in the mission field share stories, they rush through the middle to make the story more appealing. They tell you about someone struggling, then there's a small part about some action, and then suddenly there's a beautiful come-to-Jesus moment and then everyone lives happily ever after. What you don't often hear about is all of the minutia and the struggling that happens in between.
     I'll probably never have a job writing greeting cards for Hallmark, because the truth is I've come to realize that sometimes loving people is hard work. That is especially true when you encounter people whose life experiences have made them need to put up walls in order to survive, and you are one of the people who is trying to help them break down those walls.
    I don't mean to be cynical or imply that there are no breakthrough moments in the work I do. I've seen them, they just don't typically happen in loud ways. And by admitting that this kind of work can be draining, I do not mean to say that I don't enjoy it. It is without a doubt hard work, but at the same time it's the most fulfilling work I've ever known.

Unwritten Moments

     There was a lot to write about in 2017. I started the year off applying to be a Global Mission Fellow, spent a good part of my summer at training meeting new friends that have similar passions, and spent the last few months of the year acclimating to life in Nome, Alaska.
    I wrote about a lot of that, but the start of the new year has inspired me to think about all of the things I haven't written about yet.
      I haven't written about all the time I spend washing dishes. It's not glamorous, but when you're cooking for a large group of people, it's something that needs to be done and as part of the staff, sometimes it's my turn to do it. And then there are my own dishes at home, which never seem to be clean even though sometimes I feel like I spend half of my life standing in front of a sink. People love to hear about the moments in the life of a missionary when there are inspiring breakthroughs, but in between those moments there are many more moments spent doing mundane tasks like washing dishes.
     I haven't written about the days when everything seems to go wrong and I become frustrated and act in ways that I regret, or the days when bad experiences from past jobs haunt me and I start to doubt myself.
     I haven't written about my internal struggle with a large part of my job as part of a faith-based program being at a place that is not faith-based. I've come a long way with my thoughts on that as I've struggled with it privately, and maybe some time in the future I'll be ready to write about it.
     This year, I want to get back to writing authentically. Not that I have been lying in my writing, but sometimes I have elaborated on the happy moments and swept aside the difficult moments. I've put the pressure on myself of satisfying everyone back home with stories of a grand adventure, and forgotten that by definition, adventures are unusual and even hazardous.
     I've been told a lot lately that I seem very happy, and thankfully I can report that I truly am. But as a person who also knows what it feels like to be very unhappy, and felt that way in the not so distant past, sometimes my desire to convince myself and everyone around me that I really am happy now has made me afraid to acknowledge anything unhappy in my life.
     In 2018, I will strive to write a more authentic story. I will attempt to share more of the challenging stories, but also the moments of success and joy. I hope you will come along with me for this year of authentic stories.