Re-Entry

Two of my friends recently returned from summer adventures.  One of them took a whirlwind bus tour of Austria, Hungary, and Poland (with a detour to Slovakia), where she and her soon-to-be married sister experienced everything from Hungarian slap-dancing (did you know that different body parts make different sounds when slapped?)  to the somber and horrifying history of Auschwitz and Auschwitz-Birkenau.  While on the trip, my friend realized that Poland was the thirteenth country she has visited.  Thirteen also happened to be the favorite number of her beloved Polish grandfather, who spent his teenage years in a labor camp, and passed away last year.
My other friend flew across the United States with her roommate, where they rented a car and explored the western part of our country for twenty-five days.  They hiked a trail in Sedona, Arizona, (which was more of a climb than a walk); explored Jackson Hole, Wyoming; and navigated the streets of Los Angeles, where they had booked an Airbnb that turned out to be a luxurious Beverly Hills home.  Along with hundreds of strangers, they watched in silence as dawn's first light crossed the Grand Canyon. They ate turkey sandwiches on the road to save money.  They read and discussed a Bible passage every night, even when they were half awake.
As different as their journeys were, both of my friends experienced the difficulty of "re-entry".  In its instructional materials, the International Mission Board (the Southern Baptist organization that sends missionaries overseas) describes re-entry stress as "precipitated by returning to a setting you presume to be familiar, but which in reality is no longer the same...Something definitely has changed – sometimes it is the environment but often times it is you."* 
Neither of my friends served as missionaries in the traditional sense, but, upon returning, they described feelings of restlessness, anxiety, and even depression. They had not traveled for long, so nothing about their normal environments or day-to-day routines had changed.  However, perhaps the very fact that everything remained the same prompted their emotions.  How, indeed, can one continue in ordinary activities and superficial conversations when the ashes of Jews and political prisoners rest at the bottom of a deceptively serene pond in a green field somewhere in Poland?  How can one interact on a deep spiritual level with acquaintances who have not spent weeks experiencing the splendor of God's creation which reflects the beauty of His character?  
My friends will adjust to normal life again, and in many ways they already have.  But they are changed, and, in hearing their stories, I have changed with them.  Changed to more clearly see God's holiness, creativity, and love.  Changed to see the wonderful reflections of God's image in human beings, and the sickening distortion brought about by sin.  Changed, most of all, to see that, outside my safe little box, the world awaits.
  Re-entry may be painful, but I would much rather experience it than spend the rest of my life writing about other people's adventures.

*Quote taken from Re-Entry Stress:  Definition, Symptoms, Coping Styles, & Tips
International Missions Training Institute Team Leader Training Handbook, Module 11, from the International Mission Board, SBC. Copyright 1997, 1999 by the Macedonian Project, a ministry of Campus Crusade and the Volunteers In Missions Department of the International Mission Board, SBC.

Happy (Belated) Fourth of July!

Yes, I know it's a week late, but I love the Fourth of July!  I'll always treasure memories of block parties, celebrations at the pool (greased watermelon race, anyone?), and best of all, fireworks at Fort Bragg.  I never tire of patriotic songs and touching tributes to the military, whose members are such an integral part of our city's culture.  Like my former career, teaching, many people consider the military a "calling" rather than a job.  In reflecting upon my friendships with soldiers, officers, and their families who temporarily or permanently call Fort Bragg "home", I must say that I agree.  

One of my closest friends, Eric, is currently stationed at Fort Bragg for the second time.  When he was in high school, Eric received what can only be described as a calling from God to attend the United States Military Academy at West Point.  While he was (and is) intellectually brilliant, Eric was not the typical West Point candidate.  He wasn't the class president or captain of his lacrosse team.  He devoured science fiction novels, enjoyed playing video games, spent time with a handful of close friends, and would have undoubtedly adjusted comfortably to college life at one of the small Christian universities that he visited.  However, he chose to obey God and follow a path marked by hard work, sacrifice, and pain.  It has been a life of long hours, difficult deployments, and constant good-byes to friends killed in action or left behind when he moved to a different state.  On many days, he wishes that he had a "normal" job.  Yet, thus far, he has held fast to the calling.  As a result, God has given him a life story that commands attention and respect.  These experiences have given him unique influence and opportunities to preach the gospel to those who need it, and to encourage younger believers as well.

There is a debate among Christian thinkers:  Does God have a specific purpose for each one of us?  Or do we simply look for the places where He is working and join Him?  I think that a clear conclusion on this matter is less important than the fact that God is calling us somewhere, to do something.  He has given each of us talents (Luke 19:11-26) and spiritual gifts (1 Corinthians 12, Romans 12) so that we can serve the Church and "go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit...teaching them to obey everything [He] ha[s] commanded [us]."

Pray for me, and pray for yourself, that we will have the courage to seek and go to the places where He is calling us!

A Missed Opportunity

Two weeks ago, one of my best friends and I visited a favorite place--Colonial Williamsburg, VA!  My photos of the iconic Governor's Palace and George Wythe House garden are above.  We also spent a couple of days getting our roller coaster fix at Busch Gardens--very exciting and nostalgic for me because I spent so much time there as a child.  

It's interesting how one can visit the same place as a child and as an adult, and come away with a different perspective.  Busch Gardens, with its various European "countries", the place that sparked my childhood imagination and spurred me to travel as an adult, is still a magical and fun experience.  Simultaneously, the sights, sounds, and physical rigor of walking and being jostled around on thrill rides overwhelms the body and tires the senses.  It's overwhelming in other ways too.  I have a novel called The Heart Reader that I've read a couple of times.  The main character, Sam, receives a mysterious ability to "hear" the deepest spiritual needs of everyone around him.  While watching a football game at a stadium with friends, Sam is so overcome by the clamor of hopeless voices that he begins starting conversations in order to share the gospel of Jesus Christ.  My experience at Busch Gardens reminded me of Sam's story. The frenetic atmosphere of a theme park doesn't allow one to pretend that the world is unbroken. In the midst of having fun, I saw hurt flash across a little girl's face when her mother told her to shut up.  I heard a child cheerfully attempt to change the subject when her dad began grumbling and her mom asked him how many beers he'd had.  

And most of all, I saw her.  The line for the roller coaster was thirty minutes long.  She and her boyfriend were standing just ahead of us, and she spent most of the time slipping her arms around him and gazing adoringly.  At one point, we passed through one of those water misters, designed to keep waiting guests cool, and she told him that the droplets in his spiky black hair looked like snowflakes.  His complexion was dark in contrast to her porcelain, his eyelashes long, and he wore an alternative rock T-shirt.  In spite of the heat, she wore tight black pants with her Chuck Taylor sneakers.  Her hair was dark, with the slightest whispering of whitish blonde at the ends, her bright eyes were carefully rimmed with kohl, and her teeth were charmingly crooked.  Her arm was tattooed with a doll-like figure in a frilly dress, sweet except for the ghoulish quality of its pupil-less eyes.  She was beautiful.  I thought they were perhaps European, but heard English spoken in an American accent.

Then I noticed the cuts.  Two long scabs on the top of her arm, as though she'd been scratched by a tree branch.  "A coincidence," I thought uneasily.  Then she turned so that I could see the underside of her forearm.  Dozens of little white scars crisscrossing one another, all but invisible to everyone but those who knew what they were seeing.  Like I did.

I stood there thinking, knowing that I wasn't going to say anything.  Later, I formulated the words:  "I know that you don't know me, and that it's none of my business, but I want you to know that cutting yourself isn't worth it.  I've tried it.  God loves you so much that He sent His Son, Jesus Christ, to die for you, and He wants to help you if you'll ask Him."

I even asked God for another opportunity, but I didn't see her again, and I probably never will.

Who is your opportunity?

Hello!

"We toss the coin, but it is the Lord who controls its decision."  

~ Proverbs 16:33 (The Living Bible)

"Now, bring me that horizon." ~ Captain Jack Sparrow

As I write to you, my life is a blank page.  Recently I walked away from my six-year career of teaching elementary school.  I had no solid plan, only the hope that God in His mercy was allowing me to let go of a job that certainly had been a temporary calling.  I walked away with the knowledge that I may never again have a career in which my colleagues are some of my best friends, my supervisor is always on my side, my "clients" give me hugs starting at 7:00 a.m., I leave at 6:00 when my hours are technically 7:00 - 3:00 (and take work home on the weekends), clean up bodily fluids when necessary, purchase a lot of my own supplies, stress about test scores and classroom management...you get the idea.  It was bittersweet.

My life is a blank page because, really, I have no idea where I'm going from here!  But I have learned a few things already...

1)  Take risks!  My parents suggested that I apply for a position as an admissions counselor at a local university.  I had no experience and no knowledge of the admissions process until I researched and interviewed for the job.  Although the position went to another candidate in the end, the interview was a blast!  The staff and I spent three hours getting to know each other and trying to determining whether the position was a good fit.  It was actually a great exercise in confidence building, and I learned a lot about admissions and the university.  Definitely a worthwhile experience--even the campus tour in a wool suit and heels!

2)  Don't quit your job without having another job lined up unless you're really sure you're doing the right thing.  This was sage advice given to me by my mentor and my parents (actually they just said, don't quit unless you have another job, period).  There are many reasons that this is wise advice.  One of them is health insurance.  The school system gave me GREAT insurance, so switching to an individual policy was a challenge.  I spent about two-and-a-half days on the phone and online working with HealthCare.gov (otherwise known as Obamacare) and an insurance provider.  Everyone who helped me was very patient, and it all worked out, but it was certainly a complicated process!

More later...