And so it begins...

We have officially begun the countdown. I have less than one week before I leave France and that old familiar feeling has returned. The combination of excitement and sadness, like I am reaching out for someone while at the same time digging in my heels, being dragged forward against my will. No arguing with time...

I have been well loved during my time here, it will be difficult to leave my friends, they have come to mean so much to me. Yet I am excited to see my family again, to hug my mom, become reacquainted with my nephew, who at 2 years old, changes daily.

And so it begins...or begins again, the paradoxical missionary life, a life of goodbyes mixed with reunions, a combination of adventure, fear and uncertainty.

Thank you for your prayers.

Paradox Uganda

I have been visiting the paradoxuganda blog to gain information about the recent Ebola outbreak. I find the blog informative and eloquent, but the following post I found particularily amazing, and I wanted to share it with you.

God in a Box

"Reading Job this morning, and that’s what the book is about. Job’s friends try to put God in a box. If you do A, God will reward you with B. It is only in grief, tragedy, lament that real worship begins, not grasping God for His gifts but clinging to reality in the midst of confusion. God does not answer with formulas but with poetry, not with explanations but with presence. Today the churches will be praying and fasting for the end of the epidemic. We ask for that. But we don’t pretend that if there is enough outcry, then surely God will act the way we want. No, we pray to say that we have not given up, that we still seek God’s presence in the face of loss."

Dr. Jennifer Myhre

To access this blog, please use the link to the right of this page.

Fear

Just yesterday my host family and I were discussing the conditions in Chad, a country in West Africa. Apparently there has been much rebel backlash as different members of the same family are struggling to obtain power. In addition, the Sudanese crisis has spilled over their eastern border and rebel groups in the north are currently holding a Christian missionary hostage.

I will be flying into this country in one month.

I plan on remaining in Chad for less than a week as I prepare my documentation to cross the border into Cameroon, however, there is no guarantee that the country will be stable when I arrive, or remain stable while I am there.

I also learned about the shootings in Colorado today. The Youth With a Mission Training Center in Denver and the New Life Christian Fellowship church in Colorado Springs were attacked. Four young adults, two of them missionaries, were killed.

While reading in James this afternoon, I came across this passage; "Now listen, you who say, "Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money" Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, "If it is the Lord's will, we will live and do this or that."" James 4:13-15

I admit that the conflict in Chad has been on my mind. I don't know if I am ready to assume that kind of risk and I am frightened. However, the news in Colorado reaffirmed that we are never truly in control, no matter where we live. We are not guaranteed tomorrow, our lives are fragile and temporary and our future is held by God alone. I am trying to wrap my heart around this truth, to understand that God is always good even if He is not always safe. This is a difficult paradox to accept.

Heros

This morning I got out of bed and limped my way into the bathroom. Prohibited from taking a shower until next week (horror) I took a birdbath, washed my hair in the sink and gave myself my first shot of blood thinner. I prepared my breakfast and was relieved to sit down and get off my throbbing leg. A short time later my host family drove me to the lab, where I completed my 4th blood draw in 3 weeks. The following 7 days will include bandage changes, stitch removal, daily shots and another trip to the lab.

I find that in all of this I have been thinking about my friends and family members who have survived life-threatening diseases. My discomfort is temporary and certainly tolerable, but how did they do it? They suffered through major abdominal surgery, weeks in the hospital, chemotherapy that stole their hair and left them weak and nauseated, steroid therapy that caused staggering weight gain and threatened their bones. How did they do it?

I am amazed by their strength. The minor inconveniences I am currently experiencing are nothing compared to what they have endured. I appreciate them now more then ever and in light of their trials, I am reminded that my health is a gift that I so often take for granted.

This is Wendy, one of my heros.