The Expedition

A friend and colleague shared this poem as we considered how to leave our congregations and say goodbye "well." I don't know if there is a way to say goodbye well to the people who have captured my heart and lovingly pulled me into their family so quickly and fully, but I will try and try again until I have expended enough words on these loved ones. So tonight I share not my own words, but the words of another, more poetic writer... 


The Expedition 

by Anthony de Mello

My time here has come to an end, 

And I think of the days that I have spent in these surroundings.

I see an image of myself as I was when I came here

And I look at my self as I am today

At the close of this time.

I think of the persons and places that have been a part of my time here.

To each of them I speak in gratitude.

And to each I say goodbye. 

Other places, other persons call to me,

and I must go. 

I think of the experiences I have had,

The graces I have been granted

In this place.

For each of these too, I am grateful.

I think of the kind of life I have lived here,

The atmosphere, the daily schedule.

I say goodbye:

Another type of life awaits me,

Other graces, other experiences.

And I say goodbye to persons,

places, 

things, 

events,

experiences,

and graces, 

I do so under life's imperious biddings.

If I wish to be alive

I must learn to die at every moment.

That is, to say goodbye, let go, move on. 

When this is done, I turn to face the future

And I say, "Welcome."

I think of the work that waits for me,

The people I shall meet,

The type of life I shall be living, 

The events that will take place tomorrow.

And I extend my arms in welcome

To the summons of the future.

Next Adventures

Daniel and I are trying hard to keep everyone informed about what is happening in our very busy lives. But every once and a while, we will rattle off the next six adventures as if they are just obstacles on the way to the next moment in our lives.  Please trust me when I say that they are not.  The truth is that when people ask, "so what are you doing next?" or "where are you headed?" I automatically (sometimes falsely) assume that they do not want to hear all of the places we are going in the next three weeks.  But maybe they do, maybe they really do care about our crazy lives and the roller coaster that we have only just begun.

So that's what this post is about.  If you really do care about the craziness that is happening in the next few weeks - here it is.

Daniel and I JUST left (two weeks for me, one week for him) internship training with the Global Missions division of the ELCA.  It was a blast, and we learned a lot about the "beautiful secret" things that the ELCA is doing through Global Missions.  If you're interested in these secret or unknown things, just ask me because I have gotten really geeked out about it. We just started a program that focuses on educating women, there's an international leadership program, and there are people all over the world doing really incredible things (like starting a Lutheran church in South Sudan in the midst of a civil war).  

All this to say, Daniel and I are officially a "missionary couple!!"  It sounds so crazy because I don't consider what we are doing next year "mission" work, but it is a pretty humbling title to carry around.  Especially among the other beautiful people who hold that title in this church. 

Right now we are heading to Columbus, OH, where my parents have so graciously kept Cooper for two weeks.  (Thanks Mama and Daddy!!) We will pick him up, love on my parents for about twelve hours, then head back "home" to Durham, NC.  Daniel has one more heartbreaking week of internship down there.  On August 2nd, we will say, "goodbye for now" to our beautiful church family there. It will be one of the hardest goodbyes thus far.  

From there, we will have about a week to pack up all of Daniel's things (and my remaining things) and move them down to our storage unit in South Carolina.  We are excited and sad to say "goodbye" and "see you later" to a lot of our great friends at the seminary that weekend. We are at least very thankful for the opportunity to see some people and get some hugs before we depart for the year. 

Then we work our way back up north to Lincolnton, NC, where we will spend a day with our sisters and visit with Grandma before making the trek up to the mountains of Banner Elk, NC. 

After almost a week of wedding week preparation and vacation in our big family rental house in Banner Elk, 150 of our closest friends will join us for the celebration of Holy Communion and our wedding.  Obviously, that is the event that many people are most excited for.  But I can honestly say that I am just glad that I will finally be married to my best friend.  

After the wedding, we will drive back up to Columbus, spend a week with my parents (honeymooning a bit), then start our very long journey (24 hours of plane-riding) to Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia! 

We want to make sure people who care know where we are and where we are going so that they can keep in touch and continue to hold us in prayer. So thank you, for everything you have done in our lives and all of the support you continue to give us.

From Yvon to home

We spent the majority of our time in Yvon working on a large church at the bottom of a hill.  It was a beautiful work of cement art, big enough for over 200 people.  

The other time was spent exploring the beautiful hills surrounding the village and spending time with the kids in the area.  If children can afford to go to the school in the village, they learn French, English, Creole, and Spanish.  We were better able to communicate with many of the children than the adults who had been out of school for many years.  I spoke the tiny bit of French I know, but immediately had better success with English.  The little girls giggled and asked shyly to take the coloring books while the young men asked how to translate things into English.  “How do you say…?” became a favorite phrase between us and the children.  

Every night we slowly made our way back up the mountain, exhausted from the sunshine and work.  We ate all of our meals in the old church that overlooks a huge beautiful lake.  We mostly had rice and beans with fried plantains and chicken.  After dinner we pulled out boxes of dominos and turned on the generator, which powered the lights on the porch, in the kitchen, and one bulb in the church.  About thirty people from all over the village came to play cards and dominos or laugh and sing church songs with us.   

Some days we walked down to the well to help people pump water into five gallon bottles or buckets so they could take it home or bathe in the shadows of the palm trees.  It was difficult work.  The long metal pole to pump the water took almost all of my body weight before a tiny bit of water squirted out.  The well was where everyone gathered at least four times a day.  Even the smallest children pulled and poked their donkeys to the well to gather water for their families.

We talked a lot about the earthquake within our group but we were too afraid  to ask too much from the people in the community.  We weren’t sure if they or their families were directly affected by it or how they would react to our questions.  We finally found  enough courage to ask one of our translators Napoleon and were struck by his story. 

He was in the university at the time, studying to be a translator as it is one of the few semi-guaranteed jobs in the country due to the mission trips that have been more and more frequent in the past five years.  Napoleon was running late the morning of the earthquake.  He said he was walking to the university when he felt the ground move beneath him and the walls around him start to crumble.  He laid flat on the ground and thought to himself, “this is the end, I will die here.”  As the quakes and the aftershock stopped, he continued his walk to the university.  What he saw was complete devastation.  The entire four story building collapsed, killing over 200 students and more than a dozen professors.  

Napoleon said that it was much worse for people who were in school or had jobs - they were the ones inside the buildings when they collapsed that day.  He hesitantly told us about his cousins who worked on the first floor of a hotel.  The entire building fell upon them.  

On the last day of our trip we drove over five hours to one of the memorials, honoring the lives of thousands of people who died in the earthquake.  The memorial was at the sight of a mass grave where bodies were piled into a hole by a dumpster after the quake.  

It was eerie and devastating.  There was a deafening silence - anyone who may have lived near the area has long since left due to superstition and respect.  Over the walls we could see the city of Soleil (the poorest city in Haiti) with clouds of ash coming from the communes where they burned piles of trash.  We sat at the memorial for  several minutes, each of us praying or meditating, remembering in our own ways.  

We flew home the next day after spending a long time in the Haitian airport.  I haven’t been able to write much about Haiti since that day until I sat down to write this.  For a long time I have prayed a devastating prayer: “Lord, break my heart for the things that break your heart. Ruin me for the ordinary and for the easy.”  God has answered my prayers in this trip. 

I want to learn to live in a way that empowers others instead of treading on them.  I want to learn to enable them and help them identify their gifts and calling in this world.  I wish to be a leader who is able to follow, one who leads with gentleness and kindness as well as justice.  I wish to seek the assets of communities and peoples instead of first noticing the weaknesses.  I hope to find redemption and grace in all situations and experiences.  I hope that God will continue to ruin me for the cultural norms and the things that society thinks are natural.  I hope to follow Christ in all my actions and do God’s will - especially when it leads me to new places and makes me feel uncomfortable.  

So, you might be asking (as I am), what is next?  What can we do for a country that takes our aid and sells it for profit?  What can we do for a country that continues to take handouts because they are readily available and jobs are not. 

One thing we are able to do right away is change our thought process.  We must think in terms of what we can do with Haiti instead of for Haiti.  We must partner with the government and aid organizations that are already in Haiti and accountable.  We must look for the strengths within Haiti and throughout the Haitian people instead of focusing on their weaknesses. 

We can also work with churches within Haiti who are accountable to help put money into the Haitian economy.  Although there is a lot of literature about how harmful short term missions are for countries, when done correctly they pour thousands of dollars into the country’s economy and encourage people to care about foreign countries.  Our mission trip gave over $3,200 for the new church and to pay the workers and translators that stayed with us that week.  That money will not go to corrupt government officials or unaccountable aid organizations.  It will go directly back into the Haitian economy.  

We can also pray.  Although it sounds benign considering the pain and heartbreak in Haiti, we know that God is able to do incredible things.  We have no knowledge of what God might do through pray and what God has already done through the churches in Haiti.    

In preparation for Haiti

Most of you know this, but I went to Honduras for eleven days in January.  I haven't been able to go more than about 20 hours without thinking about that experience and how much I want to go back.  I might not get the opportunity to go back to Honduras, but I'm hoping to travel again this January.

The professor with whom I traveled takes a group to Haiti on the years he doesn't go to Honduras.

I am elated about Haiti.

I loved my experience in Honduras so much that I cannot even imagine how much fun I'll have in Haiti.  I just want to hang out with kids again.  Sweat in the sweet heat and giggle with some kids on the front porch of a school.  I've been Googling things about Haiti for the last week in anticipation. 34% of the population is younger than fourteen.  I couldn't be more excited.

Haiti intimidates me.

I don't know how to speak even a tiny bit of French.  And French Creole sounds even more exhausting.  How am I going to connect with people when I can't understand anything? When I can't speak anything?  But if I learned anything while I was in Honduras, it's that laughter and silliness are languages without distinctions.  I might be alright.

My heart breaks for Haiti.

Haiti was the first post-colonial black-led nation in the world.  They endured so much persecution by the Spanish and French over the years that their government has been pretty unstable for its entire existence.  It is currently the poorest country in the Western Hemisphere.  Poorer than Honduras? I think to myself. How my heart breaks for the people there.

Haiti is hurting.

In 2010, an earthquake struck Haiti, killing over 300,000 people and leaving over 1.5 million people homeless.  Four years later, they still haven't recovered.  They may never fully recover.  Their environment is subject to extensive deforestation and soil erosion.  And there is barely enough potable water to provide everyone with enough throughout the year.

Haiti can teach me so much.

Over 95% of Haitian citizens are black.  Over half of the population practices voodoo (although the census says that they are 80% Roman Catholic).  I am so incredibly interested in the culture there.  Not as a specimen of study, but as people I'd love to have relationships with.

I am so excited to meet my brothers and sisters in Haiti.  I'm going to be hitting everyone up for money soon.  It makes me ill to ask for money like this, but these trips are formational and completely priceless to the ministry for which God is calling me.

My Restlessness

Restless (adj.) - unquiet or uneasy, as a person, the mind, or the heart; unceasingly active; averse to quiet or inaction, as persons.

I think my restlessness started when I was very young. We moved around a lot when I was a child and once you are accustomed to something for 14 years, it becomes a part of who you are. Every two years (sometimes sooner) I feel a type of tugging- a want for less routine, more spontaneity, something new, a purging of all that is old.

My restlessness has led me to do some silly things. I begged my mom to redecorate my bedroom while I was in high school because we had no plans of moving. When I was in college I cut off all of my hair in the quest for something new and different. Sometimes I try out a new style of clothing for a while. It's like a midlife crisis every two years.

My restlessness has also led me to do some other mildly crazier things. Like draining my bank account on a ticket to Hawaii for ten days. And writing an entrance essay for seminary.

Sometimes it's a combination of restlessness, anger, sorrow, the need for freedom - the realization of something small - for me to do the big things that need to be done. Breaking off an engagement. Ending a relationship of almost five years.

I'm afraid my restlessness will leave me alone in this life. If not alone, it certainly has the potential to leave me lonely. In my need for change, I pick everything up and move. I leave the people I love in the search for something to stop my restlessness.

I used to be afraid I would never find the cure to my restlessness.

Then I went to Honduras.

Honduras seemed to settle me. I never felt more physically healthy than when I was in Honduras. Even the things you'd expect from international travel (exhaustion, stomach issues, soreness from more physical work I'm used to) didn't bother me at all.  I have had neck and shoulder issues from being a student for 17 years and sleeping on a thin mat on a concrete floor didn't leave me aching in the morning.

I also couldn't have been happier than I was in Honduras.  I missed talking to my parents and friends, sure; but I don't think I've ever laughed for ten days straight and I was filled with so much joy while I was there.

I felt filled with the Holy Spirit on a moment to moment basis in a way I've never felt before. I could see God in every child's face and every evening worship service.  I felt God's touch every time a six year old held my hand and in the mornings when the weigh of the mist in the mountains was heavy.

I wasn't restless there.

It took me about 4 hours in the country before I felt as if I belonged there. I've never felt so at home. We had something to do every single day and there was a new adventure around the corner of every dirt road. If I ever got bored in Honduras, I was doing something wrong.  There were endless things for me to learn there.

I miss it every day.

I'm no longer afraid that I will never find a cure for my restlessness. I know that God will lead me back to a place like Honduras. I feel the workings of that every day as I sit in class and as I talk to professors and pastors about international mission.

But it's really hard to wait. I'm doing everything I can to convince myself to stay in seminary and finish my degree. But it's so hard when I'm restless here. Especially restless here. I'm comfortable here and I hate being comfortable.

I long for poverty and adventure and challenge and love. I long for the faces of children and laughter surrounding me every day. And I don't know what that means for my future or where I'll be in the world, but I know I won't settle until my life is consumed by it.

Mission Trip

You might be thinking, “Sarah is going on a mission trip?” That’s a completely fair thought. I keep asking myself that too (except in the first person, not the third person). Seminary is really intense right now and this is not a good time to go on a mission trip. But I’m not sure if there is ever a “good time” to go on a mission trip. 

Next summer I will have Clinical Pastoral Education. 

Then another full year of school. 

The summer after that, I will hopefully be preparing for a move to my internship site. 

Then internship. 

Then school. 

My first call. 

Life. 

I'm not sure if there is ever a "good time" to go on a mission trip- especially as a full-time graduate student. 

And I could probably come up with a list of reasons why I shouldn’t go, but I keep coming back to the one reason why I should – God loves people.

I’ve been trying to live through love in the life I currently have. It’s easy to pray for far off places and far off people, but loving who you live and work with is a challenge. I’ve been trying to see my life as a mission field, not just this trip. And it has been cool to see the way God has used this new approach to everything from the way I work with my classmates to the way I treat people in traffic. But now, it’s time to take the things I’ve learned to a new longitude and latitude.

I’m going to Honduras for ten days. We are going to be doing a a building project and working in a medical clinic. But we are also going to hang out with children, learn about the culture, and be loved by people who have absolutely no reason to love us.  There will be a community built and love stared that is only possible through the love and sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

Going wasn’t a hard decision. When it comes down to it, Jesus laid out a pretty simple plan for us, didn’t He? Love God and love others. Nope, deciding to go was easy.  Also, the last time I tried resisting what God wanted me to do, I ended up doing it anyway (hence my being in seminary in the first place). Paying for it, however, is a real challenge.

To be honest with you, I just don’t have $2,000 laying around my dorm room with me while I’m eating baked Tostitos chips and watching Glee. So, instead of selling my plasma 43 times, I decided to send letters to people I don’t usually write and ask for something I don’t usually ask for: money. 

I’d love if you could financially support me on this mission trip. A little, a lot, anything would be great. You can stay updated on my progress and trip here on my blog.

I completely understand if you cannot support me financially, but if you could pray about this trip, that would be awesome. There will be a whole host of obstacles that pop up and entangle themselves around our ankles as we prepare to go love the people of Honduras. And knowing that you are praying would mean a lot to us.

Thank you for reading this rambling post. And I hope to hear from you soon.