On Saying Goodbye

One of the things that get put into perspective very clearly when you’re working in missions is how very transient life is. Things change, we all know that. There’s even a saying I know-the only thing certain is change. And yet, it always seems to sneak up on you, like Christmas, or a cop at a speed trap.

Missions work, I feel, is an area of work that is a bit more transient than others. Obviously, to be a missionary you’re open to going where God leads you, because you’ve already followed Him to Tibuktu (or wherever) and are currently living in various states of discomfort (such as in a mud hut or without decent coffee, both difficult situations to survive) to do His will. So these crazy people, who have already followed God to some unlikely destination, are therefore more likely to follow Him again, or to go back home at any given time. And then you (as the person who is being left behind) have to say goodbye.

And really, this is worse than saying goodbye usually is, because of the aforementioned leaving of your homeland to live in a mud hut/without decent coffee. Because  if you’re a missionary, unless you’re awesomely lucky like my friend Keti is, you probably don’t have any family anywhere near you. For like, thousands of miles. And while the internet is helpful for bridging that distance gap, it’s still not the same as having people you love surrounding you. So the people around you become your family, and sometimes you form alarmingly close relationships with people just because you happen to speak the same language and it’s nice not to have to conjugate before you talk. Then, when they leave you, it’s like having your blankets snatched off of you, waking you up out of a dead sleep-that same feeling of cold, panicked insecurity.

Tonight, one of my good friends is leaving Esperanza Viva, and starting the next chapter of her life. She’s not the first person to be going while I was here, nor will she be the last, but she is the first person to leave who really mattered to me (sorry, anyone else). And while I’m excited for her, and happy that she’s taking this chance, and praying for her, I can’t shake the blanket-snatched feeling because she’s another little piece of home that I won’t have any more.

Since I strive to be honest with you 6 people who read this blog, I’ll tell you the truth: I wish she weren’t going. I wish she could just stay indefinitely, ignoring her own needs and wants because I’m comfortable with her, and I’ll miss her. Frankly, sometimes I feel like I’ve already given up enough: my home, the majority of my friends, the wonderful comforts of my country (such as but not limited to Target, Trader Joe’s and Dairy Queen), a steady paycheck (really, a paycheck at all) and now one of the few friends I have is leaving? How can this happen? Why is this happening? How will I survive?!

(If anyone is getting confused, just remember, it’s all about me. That’s the main theme of this blog, I think, is my erroneous attitude that it’s always all about me)

It’s easy to have a pity party, just as easy as it is to pretend that her leaving doesn’t really affect me. What’s hard is taking a good look at everything I’m feeling and realizing that God is really in control. He gave me a great friend to help me get acclimated around here, to encourage me to speak up and to occasionally do my hair (which is difficult with dreads, let me tell you). He also gave me the chance to work in her life, as well. And now she’s starting a new chapter in her life, and it’s time to say goodbye. It’s hard, and I’m struggling with some emotions (foreign concept for me) but knowing that God has a habit of putting people in and taking people out of your life for His own good reasons helps me a lot.

So while I’m struggling to learn that it’s really not all about me, I’ll just thank God for the friends I have and only say goodbye when I need to. Due to the transient nature of missionary work and my life, I’m sure there’s bound to be more people I’m going to say hello to before I have to say goodbye again.

(If that last sentence made no sense at all I’m sorry-by product of being a crazy person. If you think about it long enough, the insanity starts to make sense.)