Today I’ve been thinking about how this part of my journey fits into the big picture of my life. I thought it might start making sense once I got here but it really hasn’t. Life here seems “normal”, or at least I’m moving into that stage I think. Work seems to be work. Those day to day issues seem to be creeping back into my life. It seems when you shake up your normal schedule those things you think about most get pushed back and are forgotten. But once you find a new pattern or routine, back they creep in. And so they’re here.
Through learning about this culture and this community, there are things that I love, and things I don’t. There are things I agree with, and lots that I don’t. There are things that I like about how people treat women, and there are things that I don’t. I’ve been missing my independence. Missing knowing friends that I trust. Missing going out to places that I love with people that I love. I’ve just finished week 5 of 11 which seems crazy to me. It seems like I’ve been here so much longer and 6 more weeks seems so long, yet so so short. I know I will be ready to come home, I already kind of am, but it’s going to be incredibly difficult. I don’t know what the future holds. I have no idea if or when I will return. I think that’s the hardest part of leaving. What makes it easier is knowing what I’m coming home to. A wonderful family, friends, a great job, community, city, etc. etc. etc. I feel truly blessed to have all that I do in Canada. Seeing the community here and being an “outsider” reminds me of what is back home. Sigh.
Through trying to discern whether or not I may be called to live overseas I’ve learned only a few things thus far. The things I’ve learned are what I DON’T want to be as a “missionary”. Being here this summer I haven’t viewed myself as a missionary, exactly. I just saw it as the opportunity to live in another place and work there. To offer whatever I could and walk alongside people for a short time. I didn’t want the pressure and the stereotypes put on me. If I was to return to this community or to another country to work, I’m not sure I’d want to go under the title “missionary”. And if I did, I sure wouldn’t want to look like a lot of missionaries. Now this sounds like it’s coming from a specific example but it’s really not. It’s coming from the presence of another race in a community and the affects that it has. The impact that the white people have in this community, this country. I want to be viewed as just another person living here. I don’t want to live in a nice house, or have nice things. I want to live and eat and travel and be just as they are. I know it’s possible. I think that’s part of the sacrifice of being a “missionary”.
Who knows what is in my future, but for now I’ll continue on. I need a lot of patience here and feel I have a lack of love a lot of the time. When I’m tired or frustrated or just distracted I seem to not love well. I need to slow down and be patient.
Well said, Shauna! We miss you too! I have missed you more on this trip than ever before! I thought it was supposed to get easier. Hmmm?
ReplyDeleteYou are right, we are sooo lucky to live in Canada, there is no question.
From my DNA you get the not loving well when you're distracted gene, you know that, eh? It's a real weakness. I've been suffering from it lately myself.
We're here anytime you're ready to fly away home. We are so proud of you for surpassing your goal and I think often of how many people will benefit from that clinic/hospital over your lifetime and beyond. You can stand back and think about the contribution you were able to make. I am learning that it really only starts with one person and that one person really can make a difference in this world.
When you are an old lady you will have many wonderful stories to tell your grandchildren and your goodness will live on forever.
LuvMom