For about a month now, I've felt like I have nothing to say. I like to write when I’m inspired, when I see Jesus doing crazy, cool things, or when I feel really funny. But I’ve been none of those things for awhile now. Of course, there are moments of greatness when I think, “Wow, God, You really do come through for me/love me/bless me,” and all those kinds of things that are always true about God, we just forget to care about them sometimes. But, overall, the Africa Reagan that was meant to emerge the instant I set foot on this continent has remained dormant… Or maybe it’s India Reagan that will become the super-Christian Reagan that will surpass all other ish-Christian Reagans of Reagans past.
Swaziland was a month of mixed emotions.
There are a lot of kids there.
I would never call myself a kid person, as kid people, in my mind, are people who thrive on child free play for unlimited numbers of hours. I am a person of bullet-pointed, color-coded spreadsheets, so put me in front of a class and give me a lesson plan, and we’re gold. So, as far as my relationships with the care point kids went, our interaction was essentially limited to classroom time. I didn’t seek them out on the playground, spend countless hours teaching patty-cake, or cry the day we said goodbye for the last time.
Really, at the end of the day… I didn’t invest.
I did get to know the teachers. I did encourage them in the hard work they did for very little payoff. I did wear a long skirt and sit in the back of a crowded kombi everyday without complaint (mostly).
But my heart wasn’t in it. I didn’t give all I had for those kids – those kids who don’t all get fed over the weekends, who may or may not be infected with HIV, who might have parents who love them… or parents who abandoned them. Those kids who each have 4 or 5 or 6 years of a story all their own, beautiful or ugly.
My lack of deep emotional involvement was more than lack of predilection, though.
There is a struggle within that resurfaces at the end of every month when we say our farewells, wondering at how 3-4 weeks went by so fast... again.
What's the point?
I will only be here for a few weeks. Should I allow myself to get attached? Should they?
Is it okay for us to come for a month, build relationships, invest in people… and then just leave?
I’ve had more than one conversation about this, but I think the best input came from my good friend and squadmate, Johnfrank:
“When you are serving in each country, whom are you representing? Your contact. And regardless of how you are feeling, take comfort in the fact that they will still be here once you leave.”
Okay.
But that’s a little harder to swallow when your wonderful, godly preschool teacher stands before you in tears, wishing you could stay one more week, just one more week. Telling you how unhappy the kids are that we won’t be around on Monday, that they love us, that she loves us, that ‘you mustn’t forget us when you leave here.’
What do you do with that?
Do you withhold the “extra mile” kind of love so no one has to deal with feelings at the end of the month?
Do you avoid short-term mission trips altogether?
Or do you invest all the way, love all the way, give all the way, be all the way – trusting God that those seeds weren’t planted in vain?
That maybe He’s big enough to take that baton you pass on the day you leave?
Is there some kind of compromise? A healthy balance?
I don’t really know. But I can say with certainty that we weren’t made for goodbyes. These cravings for the eternal, these fleeting tastes of the Kingdom, are what make us long for Him all the more.
So if it’s about His Kingdom coming and His will being done on earth as it is in Heaven…
Then let’s bring the Kingdom.
