"Do we want to be brave or safe? Gently, lovingly, our heavenly Father
wants us to know that we simply can't be both."- Gary Haugen
Seven years ago I had an experience that changed my life when I went to Honduras on a medical brigade. I will never forget my time in that beautiful country, and I will never be able to let go of the images that filled my mind during those short ten days. Children without shoes carrying their baby siblings on their backs. The tears of a man who received toothbrushes for his kids. The wrinkled face of the viejita begging for someone to please come see her grandbaby who was obviously in pain. Confusion in the eyes of moms who could not read the simple medical instructions on prescription bottles that were written in their own languages.
The heart and spirit of the hondurenos was strong, most of whom owned far less than I did, but who gave me so much. I can still remember the feeling of my body shaking, as I cried with them, laughed with them. I can still feel babies' faces buried in my chest, children's arms around my neck, teenagers chattering loudly. I can feel the embrace of a friend I met, an amazing young woman, with a heart for helping the people in the villages, the people of her country too. I still think of her often (and am in touch-- thank God for Facebook), and wonder if we both just happened to be born in separate countries, as it feels that our spirits are almost completely the same.
If I can be honest, it was during this trip, at 18 years old, that I have probably felt closest to God, up until then or since.
I remember leaving on the plane sobbing, with my American instant friend who also shares my heart, feeling heartbroken. That may be dramatic, but it was real for us... it felt like mourning a loss. I asked myself if I was going back to the right place. It seemed wrong to care about prom, graduation tassels, or frappuccinos when I now possessed the knowledge that most of the world is not even privileged to care about these things.
I kept asking myself if I was in the wrong country, something I had been asking myself since my Spanish teacher took us to the Dominican Republic and I was exposed to kissing people I had just met, three hour conversations with strangers, and hospitality from people who only knew me as my teacher's student. (I love my country, but sometimes it feels like we are so uptight and closed here, and I just think that if we kissed each other, instead of shaking hands, we would be SO much happier!) In fact, when my senior English teacher asked us to go around the room and share our life goals at the end of the year, I said that all I wanted was to "move to Puerto Rico, get married, and have babies."
Fast forward to now... I am a teacher, in my second year. Parts of this career are just as rewarding as I had expected, and parts of it are not. I would be lying if I said that I didn't feel that God is guiding me toward Latin America, back to those dreams, back to my heart.
I often push these feelings away, calling them impractical. After all, what would my peers think if I left my tenure-track position to work for less than what I made as a summer job during college or in a place where I can only shower during the hour a day that the hot water is turned on? A girl with her Masters degree checking her bed for cockroaches nightly? And, if it doesn't work out, will anyone want to employ me when I get back?
And so I suppress the dream, telling myself I would be just as happy to stay here, get married, and have babies. (After all, being a mother is perhaps the strongest calling I have felt, something that I realize does not sound smart and does sound desperate, but it's true.)
The fact is, at almost 25, I'm not married and I'm not having babies anytime soon. My life has not turned out as I planned in that way. And I can't help but think that there's a reason why.... Why every time I hear Mexico mentioned I wish I was back in Cuernavaca, watching telenovelas with my host family... Why when I look at pictures and remember holding Honduran babies on buses my heart hurts...
How my heart can ache for a life I haven't lived is something I don't understand, but I have to believe that it comes from God and I can no longer ignore it.
What if I'm still single, because that way I don't have a relationship that's keeping me here? What if I'm meant to meet someone on my journey who can be a partner in this vision?
These are not questions I can answer today; I can't jump on a plane to Latinoamerica and save the world and myself by next week. I am, however, ready to stop ignoring the restlessness that hits me every time I hear someone speaking Spanish. I'm ready to tune in, kick fear to the door, and do big things for God. I want to choose to be brave.
