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| Photo by Angela Schultz |
To be honest, it begins the moment I board the plane in Chiang Mai on my way back to Canada. My heart sets a countdown. One, two, three...like a quiet little tick, tick, tick.
How long until I can come back?
Since the pandemic, I think it's been worse. That stretch of 2 years 8 months and 11 days was brutal. And it had its own set of implications on my connection with the children, for sure. That's a big space between when you're 10 and when you're 13, as was the case for many of our girls. So who is this white lady again? And where was she when everything was all so awful?
Yes, the disruptive factor of longer absences is definitely always on my mind.
And it lays heavy on my heart.
And it goes with the territory.
Just to be clear, I love my life in Canada. I am rich in relationships. My grandchildren live close to me, and they are very much part of my life. I deeply appreciate the benefits of living in the true north, strong and free, even with our health care, economic, and general state of government challenges (which are real, but in no way compare to what others on the planet have to contend with, just sayin'). I am always glad to be back in my own bed, and to settle myself into the comforts of home. I'm crazy about my husband and always glad to get back to him.
There's just this reality about my life now. Both places feel like home to me.
In a very real way, I'm always homesick.
For the past eight-five days I've been holding my own pretty much okay.
There was an unusually intensive fall to recover from.
There was a longer-than-normal jet lag to recover from.
There was Christmas in all it's glory to plan and then enjoy.
There was an equally missional Haiti Dinner and Auction to participate in.
And under it all, there has been and continues to be an all out effort to prepare our house to sell this spring. (More on that as things unfold. For now I'll just reassure everyone that we're NOT leaving KW, as that seems to be the first question about the move.)
So I've been fairly occupied.
But now?
On my list now are things like "Email travel agent for airfare costs for July and November." And, "Begin work on Bible Lessons for the 'This Is My Family" unit for July." And "Map out cottage plans to coordinate with next visit to Thailand."
And the countdown on my heart is louder.
In all of this I am so glad for the companionship of other missionary pastors who get it. Through reading their excellent books, articles and autobiographies, I know that this sense of having my heart ache in different directions is par for the course. It's just something we must learn to live with as part of this unique and humbling call to that 'other place' where God has allowed us to serve Him. Hey, Paul knew it too. Just try reading through any of his letters to the churches, which make up most of our New Testament by the way, without finding some expression of overt longing for the people in that place.
Some of you might get this too. Anyone who loves anyone who is far away is probably on a countdown of their own. Love does that.
Some missions organizations function differently. They discourage emotional connections for a whole lot of their own reasons. And while I obviously disagree, and we approach this and other missional partnerships very differently, I do admit the risk is there.
This is hard.
But it's oh so worth it.
Eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty-seven...
Tick, tick, tick.....
