The Thing About Numbing

Last week was a roller coaster week - the kind of roller coaster where your insides somehow get pinned to the roof of your mouth and your heart ends up where your tongue should be. One of my bestest friends in the world was here for a brief, fly-by visit. Over the course of about 36 hours, we laughed and wept and biked 20 miles and ate and drank and had the time of our lives...and then she was gone. There are no words to describe how amazing this time with my friend was. Two days later, I put my 13 year old dog to sleep after watching her slowly succumb to the dark haze of doggie dementia. That was by far one of the shittiest things I've had to do in a long time. It was a week of extremes - a wonderfully, engulfing sense of friendship and love, followed by terrible loss and emptiness.

One viable option when feeling the pain of loss this week was to drink myself into oblivion and sleep for 3 days (which I sheepishly admit that I sometimes do). But when I do this, I miss the depths of love, wonder, and awe that are just as palpable as the pain. When I do this, I sleep through the friendship and the biking through the park in the brilliant sun and the long conversations over rich glasses of wine. The thing about numbing is this - although we try, we can't selectively numb. We can't numb pain and suffering without numbing hope, joy, and fulfillment. Perhaps this isn't very zen of me, but I choose to feel it all. Passionately. Every. Day. I choose to slurp up every last drop of joy and pain and bliss and suffering equally in gratitude and in hope that I will not just live life, but that I will live life abundantly.

When Words Fail

I love language and communication. I love to talk in and around and through things, wrap words around experiences, and process, process, process.  But how in the world do I answer the question: "so, how was your trip?"  I can't seem to figure it out.

• I can and often say: "uhhhh, good." - this is woefully insufficient, but often, it's exactly what people want to hear.  I get obligatory pats on the back and bewildered smiles.
• I've toyed around with: "completely life changing in every way and everything about my world is different now." - this tends to catch people off guard and completely overwhelm them, leaving us staring at each other in awkward silence...not a great approach.
• I've tried: "what trip?" while feigning malaria-induced delirium.
• To forfeit, I say: "great, I'll have to show you pictures sometime." - of course, this never happens, but it does let people off the hook and allows them to feel good about themselves for asking.
• For those friends who really, really, really want to know and care deeply, I say: "It was heart breaking, completely joyous, beautiful in every way, intimidating, filling, emptying, and then filling again..."  and then we sit for long hours and laugh and cry and honor the inevitable silence that comes when words aren't enough.  

All this to say, words fail.  They are mere shadows of a gigantic, looming experience that will inform who I am, in ways that I cannot even comprehend, for the rest of my days.  I ask for patience as I figure out how to process this experience, use it, and live into it.

Going Home

Over the last couple of weeks, I have at times felt like a stranger in a strange land. Every place that we have visited has been new to me. All of the cities and villages we have entered are places that I have never before set foot. That is, until yesterday, when we arrived in Gondola, the site of the new Gondola Training Center. Our arrival at Gondola was a little bit like arriving back home. You see, Gondola was the site of my first journey to Mozambique in October of last year, and it was here that my team spent most of their time. And so, when I was greeted by the community there yesterday, it was kind of like I was being greeted by family.








Carol and I had the opportunity to dedicate the new dining hall that my team worked on in October, which has since been completed. We planted fruit trees around the property to symbolize all of the spiritual growth that will take place here at this center of learning. The women from the surrounding community worked under the nearby tree all afternoon, cooking us a fabulous, celebratory dinner. In the evening, the district superintendent hosted a special service for us at the church in the nearby city of Chimoio and presented gifts to both Carol and me. The day brought with it feelings of familiarity and I was wrapped in warm memories and bright hopes for the future.


Tonight is our last night in Mozambique; we fly out of Beira tomorrow afternoon. I'm ready to go home in many ways, but part of my heart remains here with this new family, in my new home. I am confident in all that God is doing here through the Mozambique Initiative and I can't wait to see how this family grows in the coming years.

Loneliness

I'm learning that there are days when this job can be lonely. Days when you're hot and tired, and it seems that you are the only one in the whole wide world who knows. I'm tired today after waking up at 4:00am to catch our plane to Beira, which makes me a little sullen and missing the folks in my life who just get it. I'm living into this feeling and realizing that this is just a small window into the lives of the widows I visited at Hanhane and the children I met at the Carolyn Belshe Orphanage. We all long to know and to be known. We all feel lonely - perhaps some more than others.




As I sit and reflect by the beach tonight in Beira, I am filled with gratitude for those who truly know me and who are truly known by me. It's this small circle of individuals who recharge my battery, provide inspiration, send prayers, spend time, and give generously of themselves to me. I'm grateful because not everyone has these kinds of people to hug and kiss on (sometimes virtually, from across an ocean). This week I have met many individuals who have lost these kinds of people in various ways. This small, insignificant sliver of solidarity I'm experiencing is sobering, centering, and gratitude-inducing.

Last Day in Maputo

We have been in the city of Maputo for the last few days attending meetings and working at the United Methodist Conference office. Since our arrival, it's been 14 hour days trying to cram all of our buisness in before we leave the city. Tomorrow morning at 7:00am, we fly up north to Beira where we will visit the Gondola Training Center and continue our tour of the various projects of the MI.


The Bishop of the United Methodist Conference of Mozambique took us to lunch today as a farewell celebration. She is kind, intelligent, and thoughtful, and she had many interesting things to share about the culture of Mozambique and the work being done here. The opportunity to work with a woman of this caliber is inspiring and I am honored to know that on this journey, we began a friendship that will bear much fruit.


We were lucky enough tonight to have electricity and a strong internet connection, which means that we were able to check in with friends and loved ones. Both Carol and I were able to skype with our respective spouses...at the same time. This is what us missionaries call a "double date" (see romantic screen shot). Though we were slightly slap happy from exhaustion, it was nice to touch base with home.

Thank you friends for all of your continued prayers, good vibes, and support during our journey. It truly means the world to us. Hopefully I will be able to post updates from the north, as internet connections allow.

Song and Dance

I am a music person, through and through. And I'm finding out that Mozambique is a music country, through and through. In some ways, I'm like a hand in a glove here. In every village that we enter, we are greeted with a song. At every departure, a dance. When we were driving down the country, all the Mozambicans who accompanied us sang the entire time. Back home, this is actually how I function every day, singing my way from one location to the next...it's just that in the US, everybody looks at me funny when I do. This is not the case here. I fit in quite well.

Today we attended an epically long worship service in Maputo, where a new chapel, called Macedonia, was dedicated. This was a celebration of epic proportions, and the accompanying musical presentation was beyond words. It was singing, dancing, and call and response for hours - 7 hours to be exact.

This service was followed by a concert featuring the local youth, which was astounding. I heard live, local, Mozambican hip hop as well as R&B and gospel. I was then asked to sing with the house band, and after a quick 10 minute rehearsal, we brought the house down! What a day. What a country! The event wasn't complete until we danced our way out into the night and whistled our way to dinner.