I have experienced reentry many times before. I have gone to a third world county and returned home and felt overwhelmed by all of the emotions, saddened to leave behind precious new friends, and guilty for the ridiculous amount of material possessions I own. The first week after my year in Haiti, I visited friends in Florida. We went to Disney World for a day. I cannot even begin to describe how that felt! In Haiti on a Sunday and at Disney on a Wednesday. I was in a daze. Walking into Walmart and seeing all of the products and food choices after driving through the streets of Port-au-Prince where open air markets sell raw, bloody meat that is covered in flies brought me to tears. I got angry at my family members for being greedy, ungrateful and for complaining about silly things. Alas, usually a few weeks after my reentry, I found myself being just as selfish.
In Honduras, at age fourteen, I was introduced to a third world country for the first time. I witnessed the beauty of human spirits mingled with the constant struggle to see basic needs met. I visited an orphanage for the first time and my young, tender heart ached for the little ones who were without families and adequate provisions.
In Haiti, as a sixteen year old, I fell in love with another group of people, left a part of my heart there and began making plans to move back for a year after graduation. I came alive during that year, found strengths I never knew I had and dared to do and say things I never, ever would have tried back home. I was sure I would meet another missionary, get married and raise my family on the mission field. I didn’t care that my body was full of parasites and malaria, I loved the people of Haiti and I would do anything I could to see the hope and love of Jesus alive in their hearts.
In Albania, just years after communism was lifted, I met precious people who lived decades behind their European neighbors. They still dwelled in abject poverty and were trying to figure out fact and fiction. During the years of 1976-1991, they had little or no contact with outside world and were led to believe that their nation was advanced and that other countries were intimidated by them. In reality, they were getting poorer and poorer. They welcomed us, offered hospitality at their own expense and were so gracious. Underneath their beautiful smiles, I saw their broken hearts.
Each time I have returned from a trip, I have resolved to do or not do certain things. Sometimes I have followed through and other times I have fallen flat. The trip to Guatemala reawakened so many things within me. Since it had been seventeen years since my last trip, in some ways it felt like I was experiencing certain sights, sounds. smells and emotions for the very first time. In other ways, it was like I was home, back where I belong.
One thing that strikes me each time is how bold I am in another setting and how timid I become on my own home soil. In Haiti, it is socially acceptable to greet every single person you pass with “Bonjou” or “Bonswa.” It became so ingrained in me that I would say it to cows and other farm animals I would pass along the paths. The Haitians thought I was crazy and would laugh at me often. I did not care.
I returned home and suddenly, I no longer felt that I can say hello to total strangers. Of course, initially, my instinct was to say “Bonjou” or “Bonswa,,” but then I remembered they will not understand me. So, instead of saying “Hello” in English, I would talk myself out of it altogether.
Over the years, I have learned to care less and less about what other people think of me. There are still times I fret about being perceived as a crazy person, but most of the time, I feel the nudge of the Holy Spirit and I choose to obey, because I have seen what happens when a smile or a kind word is offered. I know firsthand the blessing of being on the receiving end of a stranger’s kindness and 99 times out of 100, people respond favorably to such love, rather than recoil. Those odds are very much in my favor, so I’ve decided to leave the one to Him.
Yesterday, just days after returning from Guatemala, I was at our local swimming pool. This was my first time in public since my return and I was seeing people with new eyes and an open spirit. I was planning to journal about my trip while my boys swam. At one point, the heat overcame me, so I went into the rec center to enjoy the AC and continued writing. A few minutes later, I looked up to see a child crying. Right beside him was his team leader, a young man I had met a few weeks before. He was offering the little boy comfort, encouragement and love. I felt tears welling up in my eyes as I witnessed his tenderness. I had met this same young man a few weeks ago and observed the way he led his group. They were happy, they cheered for each other as they went off the diving board and seemed to be more of a family and less of a summer day camp. That day, I walked up to him and his co-leader and told them that they were doing a fantastic job. Today, I was blessed to see him again. He didn’t chastise the child for crying. He handed him tissues, wiped his tears and got up to get him a popsicle. I told him again, “You are so good with those kids. They know that you care about them. I know this is so much more than a job for you.” He thanked me and told me that he only has a few weeks left before he moves to California to take a job working with special needs children. In time, he wants to work up to being a principal. I looked him in the eye and said, “I believe you have that in you.” I told him a bit about our week in Guatemala and asked if I could friend him on Facebook and share more about Hope of Life and Kelly’s House with him. It turns out, his dad is a local pastor, his family is from Belize, he is an LU graduate and is familiar with World Help. What a small, small world!
I wrote this message to him on Facebook, “Your mission field is right where your two feet are planted. I have observed a young man over the past few weeks. The first time I saw him with the children entrusted to his care, I saw someone who was there to love. This was more than a job to him. Today, I witnessed him being the comforting hands and feet of Jesus again Friend, Jesus oozes out of you! His plans for you are GOOD!!! Jeremiah 29:11-13, Zephaniah 3:17, Isaiah 58 and 61.”
Moments later, back out at the pool, I witnessed a mom taking care of her toddler son. I wanted to communicate with her, but she is deaf and I do not know sign language. I had my journal on my lap, so I decided to write her an encouraging note. Even as I did so, the voices were screaming in my head. “You can’t do that, she’ll think you’re a weirdo.” “You can’t do that, your kids will think you are a weirdo.” I chose not to listen to the voices and wrote, “Dear Friend, you are a good mama. I have watched you with your children the past few weeks. You are patient, gentle, loving and full of joy. Blessings to you today.” I watched her read the note and saw her face break into a huge smile. She looked up and signed, “Thank you!”
My mission field this summer is my home, Harrisonburg Pregnancy Center, Renew Camp, Guatemala and Westover Pool. My mission field is wherever my two feet are planted. There is one thing I love about reentry. My eyes are again wide open to the nations in our own backyard. My heart is soft and I want to represent the love of Jesus to every person I meet.
Father, help me to love them with the same ease as if I were in another country. I choose to surrender to You and not the fear of what others may think of me. Don’t let this fire in me die. Burn in me, let me be Your hands and feet to the world around me.
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