Our Journey

[late Wednesday night]

I’m sad.
I’m tired.
My head hurts.
My heart hurts.

I’m annoyed at all these “last” coffees and lunches and dinners. The countdown is wearing me out. I want to enjoy a meal with my girlfriends without imagining the depth their friendships will grow while I’m gone. I don’t want to be afraid that they will change and I will change and we will no longer be the same friends as if I had just stayed put.

I’m annoyed that Jeff has meetings while I watch the kids. And equally annoyed that if I would just say so, I could be at the meetings.  And still more annoyed that I don’t want to be at the meetings that I’m annoyed I’m not at.

I’m frustrated with myself for buying clothes that I will “need” in Malawi because my purchases only reveal how shallow and unfaithful I really am.

I’m scared that I won’t be enough to support my family – not as strong or adventurous as Jeff, not as confident or prepared as I need to be for my kids. And what if I’m not smart enough or experienced enough to be a true partner with the persons of the United Methodist Church.

I’m sad that this journey is a source of pain and sadness for our families. And our friends.

But even as I feel and experience all of this, when I ask myself – and God – what else could we do, there is nothing else. Jeff and I have come to impasse. We have been given a glimpse of a new way of life, a new opportunity to use our gifts, a new adventure for our family. And to walk away from that now would mean even greater heartache and frustration.

When I look to our future, I don’t see a fork in the road. I don’t see competing options. I see Malawi. And not just because we have non-refundable tickets for July 6, but because it is our calling.

But yet, as the day approaches I become more convinced of the trials and the challenges that we will face. The introvert in me does not know how I will make new friends. The perfectionist in me doubts that I have anything of value to contribute worthy of all the sacrifices that have been made on our behalf. And how can Jeff and I provide an environment for our children that is as supportive as the one we have worked so hard to create here  – where we share meals with friends several nights a week, where the line between friends and family blurs, where the kids see their grandparents almost monthly, where they drink water from tap without fear, and eat raw fruit without a second thought?

I have no doubt we are to go. We have received confirmation and affirmation from a variety of sources and divine coincidences. But I seem to grow more weary by the day instead of more energized. I hope this is natural. I hope this is part of the grieving and separation process. I hope that I keep hoping.