What I didn’t know about being a missionary

Before moving to Haiti, I did my research. I went to cross-cultural training. I read books and articles and I questioned missionaries from all over the world. But even after all of that, there was so much I didn't know.

 I knew that working with orphans would break my heart, but I didn't know that I would lie awake at night and cry for Isabelle when her dad left and nobody wanted her. I didn't know the way it would feel to give food to 7-year-old Janeane, who wouldn't otherwise eat that day. I didn't know that I would meet a once-starving child and that my heart would explode with both pain and joy at the opportunity to feed her a bowl of spaghetti.

I knew that I would grow in my walk with the Lord, but I didn't know how completely and desperately dependent I would be on Him.  I didn't know that I would go to bed with sore knees because I had been on the rooftop praying for so long.  I didn't know that I would have literally no choice but to cry out to Him or that I would see Him show up in truly miraculous ways.

I knew that I would have to say goodbye to friends and family, but I didn't know that the goodbyes would never end - short term teams, interns, missionaries finishing out there time here. I didn't know that everyone who left would leave me with a gaping hole in my heart. I also didn't know that I would feel forgotten when people from the States didn't call or write...or that a simple card in the mail would absolutely make my day.

I knew that there wouldn't be some of the luxuries (and even necessities) that I enjoyed in the States, but I didn't know that at the beginning of the year, all of my classroom supplies would fit in a single plastic tub...or that one book would become a treasure to be cherished. I didn't know that I would go back to the States and find that the luxuries there are both genuinely satisfying and fundamentally disturbing.

I knew that I would take on extra roles, but I didn't know that being a missionary also means being an author, a public speaker, an accountant, a bus driver, a counselor, an events coordinator, a nurse, and a mom. I didn't know how bad I am at some of those things...or how good I am at others.

I knew that I would have a special relationship with the kids here, but I didn’t know that I would be the only one Isabelle would feel like she could trust when her world was crashing down around her.  I didn’t know that she would see me and smile in a way she doesn’t smile at anyone else – a smile that says ‘I feel so loved by you.’

There are so many things I have learned from living here.  Even though I usually learn these things the hard way, I'm glad I didn't know them before coming. Stumbling through the day and making it up as you go is hard, but it's worth it. It makes life interesting and fun.

Deploy the troops. Send in backup. Go go GO!

Chaos, violence, and disaster reigned.  Men in orange uniforms fought, shoved, and stabbed everyone who got in their way.  Meanwhile, I sat on the edge of my seat in my living room chair, eyes glued to the TV screen.

My friends and I (as well as all of our neighbors, thanks to us!) have gotten addicted to the TV show Hawaii Five-0 (the remake).  For those of you who don’t know, Hawaii Five-0 is about a task force of 4 cop/detectives who, in addition to being partners, are best friends.

*Spoiler alert*

In this episode Chin, one of the Five-0 members, was kidnapped and smuggled into a high-security prison where one prisoner hoped to kill him.  Soon, an all-out-riot broke out because of Chin’s presence there.  When the Five-0 team found out where Chin was, there was no question.  This was one of their own – they were either going to get him out of there or die trying.  When the Hawaii police department refused to help because of the danger, Five-0 took matters into their own hands, flew a helicopter into the prison yard, and burst into the prison, guns blazing.

So what does this have to do with me?

A few weeks ago, I sent out an email begging you to pray for me.  The last few months in kindergarten have been rough.  They have worn on both my patience and my sanity.  From the moment I wrote the email and pressed send, I was overwhelmed by the response I got from family, friends, and supporters.

“I am printing out 50 copies of this email to give to my prayer class,” one of my college professors wrote.

“Our Bible study is meeting tonight – I will share this with them and we will pray!”

“We just had a prayer meeting.  You should have heard how passionately people prayed for you.”

As I read these responses, I was reminded of Hawaii Five-0.  I felt like Chin.  It is hard to be surrounded by chaos, but it is beautiful to know that you have a team that cares deeply and passionately about you.  A team that, as soon as they find out what is going on, jumps up and comes to the rescue, guns blazing.  “This is one of our own.  Send in backup.  Deploy the troops.  Go, go, GO!”

Prayer is powerful.  Keep praying.  I guarantee you that not a day goes by that I am not in need of your prayers.  Thank you for being my prayer warriors who are willing to fight for me.  You may not fight with guns, but you fight on your knees.  And that’s even better.