identity

I'm not sure whether to entitle this "words", or "lazy".  I haven't yet filled in the title box. probably when I do, i'll choose something else altogether.  But those are the words that bring me here tonight.
Since I've been home, I've done a lot of reading.  I say "a lot", but really I've managed about 8 books since I've returned.  And they're not anything special.  I'm not reading the classics, and I'm not reading good Christian inspiring literature (as if literature can have a soul and join the ranks of the Redeemed...but that's another rant...)  I've mostly been reading young adult literature.  I stumbled upon another friend recently who loves this genre and it made my day.  I love finding a kindred spirit in my silly quirks. But that's not really what I'm intending to write about either.  Just felt it was worthy of mentioning. Anyway, I read this young adult lit for a variety of reasons- it's mindless, it's unassuming, it's thought-provoking, (yes, mindless AND though-provoking).  I guess what I mean to say is that it allows me to think without forcing me to think.  And we all know I don't like being forced to do anything.
And that brings me to the issue of laziness.
When I read certain ones of these books, I'm reminded of how much I love words.  See, I've found most authors do one of two things, usually.  They create characters that love words, or the create characters that HATE academics.  There's rarely an in-between.  They tend to create a character they understand, and most authors understand what it means to love language.  They've danced with words in moments of intense passion, soaked in them like a luxurious bath after a long day.  And as I read the characters, I realize I'm one of them.  I do this.  I love this.  I LOVE language.  I can totally geek out talking about words, or the history of words, or the origin of words, or the theories behind words.  Some days I want to abandon the head knowledge of them and just experience them, but a lot of days I can really enjoy all the academic stuff behind language.  And yes, I still use words like "stuff."
I'm so self-conscious about my writing.  I think it's because I realize how many people there are who are better than me.  See, for a long time I didn't. In high school, I was pretty much the best.  I realize that sounds arrogant, but it's true.  I wrote well, I had perfect grammar, I never proofed my own work, I always proofed everyone else's.  Then I went to college and everyone was good, and I was just one of many good writers.  In fact, I was a good amongst greats in a lot of cases.  I know I'm good, but I now know there are MANY out there who are MUCH better.  This does not diminish my talent, it simply acknowledges that there are those with more.  That's simply a fact of life.  A fact I enjoy, because it means I get to relish in the words of others.  I get to read this blog and enjoy that I had the privilege of being in class with such a beautiful writer, thinker, and girl.  Or I get to read this blog and find one of those kindred spirits I mentioned before, whom I've hardly met yet feel like I know so well.
But here's the difference- I am incurably lazy.  I say "incurably", though I'm sure it's not true.  I'm sure there's a cure for my sloth.  But I've had professors and teachers and friends and family assure me at some time or another that I've reached only a tad bit of my potential, and that is because of my lack of dedication to the task at hand.  If I had a dollar for every time my piano teacher laughed in frustration (probably to keep from crying) at how much I could accomplish on basically no practice time, I'd have been a rich little girl...and a rich teenager.
If I had a dollar for every knowing look from my favoritest might-as-well-be-british professor, upon realizing that the B level paper I just turned in would've been so much better if I'd begun working more than 48 hours in advance...
If I had a dollar for every time Aly and Amber laughed and/or stressed at my habits...
I should've capitalized on this long ago.
Or perhaps learned from it, at least.
So here's my big confession- here's the big problem I have:
I am so afraid that I'll put in the work and still not be good enough.
I'm terrified that if I finally buckle down and do something I feel is excellent, it will still only be considered good.
I am scared that my assessment of my abilities is larger than reality.
I'm afraid of failing, and being so hurt I never try again.
Is this a pride problem? Probably.
But it's a matter of identity for me.  It's who I am.  If I try hard and fail at something I thought I was capable of, then who am I?  Then what do I do?  How can I trust anything then?
Is this extreme and silly? Somewhat.
Is it still an issue for me, however ? Most definitely.
Is my current job search and (subsequent rejection) bringing me dangerously close to the feelings I just described?  YES.
Am I afraid?  YES.
Am I angry? yes.
Am I bitter? not yet
Am I desperate? soon...
Right now the afraid part wins out though.
What if I'm not good enough?  What if I can't find a job?  What if no one wants me?  What if I find a job and can't do it well?  What if I'm miserable(r)?  What if I never make any money and can't afford a family and never have a stable life again?
What if I just want normalcy, despite the fact that I realize normal will never feel normal again?
And now I don't even know what this post is about.
But because I love the words, I come back here and write it all out for everyone to see.  Because the words have power, even over me.  And when I name something, I know it.  When I name it, I begin to master it.  Then it's less scary.  Less overwhelming.  Less foreign.  When it has a name, I can do with it what I do with other words. Write it, feel it, soak in it, and perhaps begin to understand it. And eventually, use it... for good. 

wait

Well, I haven't blogged in months.
Sometimes emotions are bigger than me.  Sometimes my capacity for handling them is insufficient, and writing, though it is often helpful, sometimes just hurts too much.
So there's your reason why.
A lot has happened, and perhaps I'll talk about all of it some day.  There are things I long to share with someone else, and things I'm still not ready to share.
I am intensely lonely at times.  Which drove me to buy a kitten, against the wishes of my parents.  I really do try to respect them- I realize they're supporting me completely right now in my state of unemployed unsettledness. But I needed someone...something... And along came Eliot.  That's her name today. I've been switching it out every few minutes/hours/days.  Tonight she's El, Ellie, Eliot. We'll see how it lasts.  I suppose ultimately her name, or lack thereof has been a bi-product of my inability to commit.
Another biproduct would the shortage of clothing in my closet.  Followed closely by how often I say "I don't know."
And this conversation:

"What are you up to these days, Allison?"
Nothing
"........Do you have a job yet?"
Nope. Still Searching.
"Oh, well...what do you want to do?
Anything that makes money...
"So, you'll be teaching, then?"
Guess I should've said, 'Anything that makes money and isn't teaching'
".........Oh.  You don't want to teach?"
I'm not certified to teach. (this is my attempt to not say "I HATE TEACHING" because people react poorly to that)
"Well...what about working as an assistant teacher? Or in a private school? Or tutoring? Or some other teaching-related job?"
Well, see...I really don't want to teach...at least not right now.
"Oh, I see.  So...what do you want to do?"
Anything that makes money....
"Well, what skills do you have?"
I'm an English major with 2 years of international experience
"Have you thought about teaching?"
*Explodes*

I attempt to keep the exploding part internal. But one day it's gonna come out.  Well, I guess that's what's currently happening.  Don't get me wrong- I KNOW people want to help.  I KNOW they're just trying to be nice.  I know every time they tell me that it will all be okay and God will provide and something will come up and my random pointless job experience and degree aren't actually useless... I KNOW they mean well.
And I KNOW that God WILL provide for me.
But good heavens, would it hurt us to sometimes just give people a hug and not ask them the same 18 questions every week? Or at least listen to the answers they give??
Again, I do truly realize no one is trying to upset me, or offend me, or be unkind.
I guess you just don't realize how empty words can be sometimes until you're on the receiving end of them in the midst of a tough time.
One dear woman told me she realizes that this is a hard thing to go through and that I'm at a bit of a disadvantage, but she'll be praying for me.
THAT. That is the most helpful thing I've heard since returning from Malawi.

And so I wait.
Patiently or impatiently, I wait.
I cuddle with my kitten, I visit friends, I enjoy family, I eat and get fat...
And wait.
And fill out applications.
And wait.
wait.



Wait on the Lord;
Be of good courage,
And He shall strengthen your heart;
Wait, I say, on the Lord!
Psalm 27:14

Realizations and Reality Checks

"When are you leaving?"  "Do you have a plane ticket yet?" "What are your plans for when you get home?"
If I had 100 kwacha (roughly 25 cents) for every time I've heard (and dreaded answering) these questions in the past few months, I think I would have enough money to buy that ticket I don't yet have.

"Why don't you just write a letter?" Aly keeps asking me.  I'm the expert with words around here.  I write and edit support letters and updates and newsletters for us and for others.  I enjoy it.  Words come easily for me.  I've had to handle the money a lot more around here, and that's something I'm terrible at. Any of several men around campus can testify to that, when I've shown up at their door begging to exchange a little money because I didn't save enough kwacha to do any number of random things that come up here- doctor bills for staff, school fees for their children, trips to the tailor (not necessary, I know...but...a week at home leaves a girl too much time to plan wardrobes!)

So, when it came time to buy that plane ticket home, Aly made a reasonable suggestion I've made to her quite a few times in the past two years.  "Write a letter/email/facebook message home asking people to help out!"  And for some reason, this time, I couldn't bring myself to do it.

I kept saying it was because I feel bad because we were so recently asking for money for the December Christmas surprise trip home.  "I forgot."  "I'll do it later."  "Yeah, I'll think about it."  I have no end of excuses. (I know, I know...me? excuses? shocker!)  Today, though, I sat down and thought about writing that letter.  After all, she's right.  I could use a little extra help this time.  My support is way down from what it used to be, and even with a little help from ABC, I don't have enough money to live life here, pay my taxes, and buy a plane ticket.

And then I realized that there's a little more than a slightly shameful lack of humility preventing me from writing this letter.

What would I say?  How would I begin?  There's no way to sum up the past 2 years.  There's no way to explain that my spring break 2 years ago began the most terrifying and wonderful experience of my life.  How do I begin to bring to a close the thrill that 2 years in Africa has been?  How do I say goodbye?

Writing that letter would be the first step.  Writing that letter would be admitting that the "4 months" we insist we have left really is much less than 4 months.  Writing that letter would involve admitting, to myself and to you, that this is ending, and I am totally, completely, 100% clueless about what that means for me.

Well, this is my letter.  This is me telling you I'd appreciate any money (or job offers) that you can give, but that I'd equally appreciate any prayers you can give.  I can temporarily hide from the IRS (though I realize it's not a great idea), but I can't hide from the reality of the change that's ahead of me. It's coming quickly, and I am quite unsure of how to handle it.  Two years ago, two years seemed a long time.  Today, two years is disappearing before my eyes.

There's a link at the top left of the page that tells you how you can donate money.  Or you can message me, or talk to my parents about that.
As for prayer, well...
I think you know how to pray.  :)

So thanks. Thanks for two years. 

Overflow

Sometimes, I get these feelings. These pit-of-my-stomach-sorta-nervous feelings.  My heart feels a little fluttery, and I get this excited little jumpy feeling.  It's weird.  I can't ever tell exactly why.  But it always means something is coming.  I know it sounds silly.  But it's big. It's a big feeling.  I got it when I realized I was coming here.  I got it when I first realized Jesus loved me.  I got it when I was a little girl who didn't understand completely, but knew God was calling her to love His people. I have it today. I don't know what's coming.
I read this blog today. It was a random impulse thing- I saw someone share it on facebook. I don't even know who shared it. I don't know the girl who wrote it.  I know nothing about her. It took every tiny shred of self control I've ever had to not cry through my free class today.
Basically, I realized something.
Now, don't get me wrong. I love Jesus. I really do. But...how often do I say that and...do nothing?  I mean, I know I'm a missionary and all.  I know that should probably mean I'm all fulfilled and happy and following Jesus and reading my Bible and praying and loving orphans and giving all my money away and blah blah blah blah blah.
So...news flash- this life is HARD.  And sometimes I'm unhappy.  And most of the time I'm really selfish.  I want my own room, my own time, my own space, my own life, my own friends, etc.  And seriously, don't give me all this crap about "you are doing such a good thing, dont be so hard on yourself".  Jesus didn't call me to do good things.  Jesus called me to love him with reckless abandon, to sacrifice everything to him, to feed his sheep. To care for the unloved and forgotten, to give everything up. To grab the nearest method of torture (take up your cross) and follow him.  To leave behind friends and family if necessary.  To realize that HE IS EVERYTHING.  To have all the world offers plus Jesus is no better than having Jesus plus nothing.  I mean, seriously.  This stuff is serious!  Jesus' teachings aren't easy all the time.  And how often do I apply those hard ones to my life? Wouldn't I rather just "love my neighbor" in some vague and unspecified way?
I've been so focused on myself.  I don't want to do this, I do want to do this, what do I want when I go home, blah blah blah...  I mean, it's not all about me, ya know?  But it's as if I didn't know that sometimes.  I think I'm rambling... but...well... it's my blog.  And I need to get all these things out.  But I know this:
Something has to change. Something is already changing.  The feeling is there.  I know this is the beginning of something new and big.  He's making me new. He's restoring and refreshing me.  He's calling me to himself, and I can do nothing but respond.  Love like that doesn't allow for anything else.
I don't know what adventure is coming next.  It might be living in Columbus. It might be coming back here.  I don't know.  And I don't know if I'm ready for it.  I am pretty terrified, if I'm honest.   Life is really scary sometimes.  This whole big adventure is usually more than I bargained for.  And sometimes I love that, and sometimes I hate that.  But man...my God is big. So big.  He loves me so much.  I mean, he really really does.  And although I know that in my head, today I feel it. I feel it all over.  I can't explain. I can't make sense of all of it.  I realize the something big coming may not be "good".  But my God is Good.  No matter what.  And though that is somewhat hollow coming from me in a mostly happy time in my life, I trust he's faithful to reveal himself and his will to me. And with the father I read about in the gospels, I pray in faith, "Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief." Lord, I surrender; help my selfishness.  Lord, I trust; help my fear.  Lord, I will go; help my unwillingness.  Oh, and He will!  I know he will.  I know he'll finish the incomplete mess I am.  To Him be glory, forever.

Endurance

Well, my Sunday blog schedule is clearly quite flexible.  I'm not updating every week, but here we are a few Sundays later and I'm finally getting back to this.  I wanted to blog last Sunday, but it was a busy day, with us saying goodbye to our sweet roomie, Pam, and then doing lots of house cleaning and separating all our junk again.  We discovered some clothes we'd forgotten existed, so that's always exciting.  Anyway, my reason for desiring to blog last week was to tell you about our Saturday. So I'll do that now.  But first a little of the back story...

Earlier in the year I asked my 11th graders to write a journal (relating to a poem we'd read) that basically said how'd they'd face death, if they knew it was coming tomorrow.  I was surprised to hear their answers.  Overwhelmingly, they expressed sentiments about wanting to do more with their lives, wanting to make a difference, wanting to make their parents proud, and wanting to be remembered.  They felt like their lives hadn't done enough of these things.  Well, as their overambitious English teacher, I couldn't just let that go...

So, I did some research on the concept of Service-Learning, and took on the exciting task of having my students create individual Service Learning Projects for themselves to complete in the following months.  I asked them to come up with something they can do to benefit or serve their community in some way.  They then had to write a project/research proposal with a description of their project, ways they were gonna make it happen, a schedule, a proposal for a research topic connected with their project, and why their idea was of value from a Christian worldview.  (Don't worry...I was nice when grading these. I realize it's a lot of work!)

All this to say, last Saturday 2 of my students began working on the practical aspects of their projects.  Ryan Epperson is one, and he began a project in connection with the organization his dad works with.  I must admit he's way more knowledgeable than I am about what he's doing, but it involves planting A LOT of trees to combat the massive amount of deforestation in Malawi, as well as teaching youth from Gusu and/or Jidi villages about ways to take care of the environment around them.  It's a really neat way of encouraging Malawians to be good stewards of the natural resources in the gorgeous country God has given them.  Ryan is awesome, and though I happen to know he wasn't very excited about this project, I'm very proud of what he's been doing and the difference he'll make through this.

The other student, Kaitlin Harthoorn, took on the massive feat of swimming 25 kilometers across Lake Malawi to raise money to buy Bibles in Chichewa for Adziwa orphanage (I'm hazy on details of the name here, so my apologies if I'm not 100% correct.  My understanding is that Adziwa village is being aided in taking care of the orphans in their area, and families who agree to take in children are given a stipend to help out in the process.  So Kaitlin wanted to provide a Bible in Chichewa for every family and Chief involved in this project.  Now, Kaitlin is already a pretty incredible swimmer. She's on the ABC swim team, and travels around southern Africa participating in swim meets and such.   I thought it was cool she was using her talents/skills for such a good cause.  So Saturday, Aly and I went to the lake to meet her as she swam in from the opposite side of the lake.  A man from South Africa, I believe, had been helping Kaitlin train, and he swam the lake that day as well.  Their goal was to beat the current record time (something like 9hours 45minutes).  Kaitlin's trainer swam ahead of her a bit and came in somewhere around 8.5 hours I believe.

I have to admit, when Kaitlin told me about this project, I was pretty impressed, but I didn't realize the determination it would take.  This girl had been training something like you'd train for a marathon, only in the pool.  She had to change her eating habits a bit leading up to the swim, and put in crazy numbers of hours in the ABC pool working toward this goal.  As they were planning for a 8+ hour swim, there was the issue of how to stay nourished and keep one's body going during that time in the water without a break.  Kaitlin was determined though, and choked down some not so yummy gooey pastey stuffs while swimming to make this work.  Pretty crazy.  Did I mention she's only 17?

So, as Aly and I sat on the beach all afternoon being totally lazy, Kaitlin was ready for her swim at 5 am, but weather difficulties delayed her start til around 7:30 that morning.  Her parents, brother and sister, and swim coach were travelling beside her in a support boat piloted by a family friend.  Her family swam with her at times, encouraging her along the way.  At some point, the weather got rough again, and her dad reported 4 and 5 foot waves in the middle of the lake.  After just over 9 hours of nonstop swimming, Kaitlin was met by a cheering crown at Livingstonia (yes, named after David Livingstone) beach in Salima, Malawi.  Exhausted, and not one for the spotlight, Kaitlin chose to remain in the water to cool down and get some strength back in her tired limbs.

It was a really neat experience for me.  I assigned these projects hoping to help my students feel a little more purposeful- to find some meaning in their lives.  I knew it would be hard work for them, but that's good!  I still think this project was a good idea, and I look forward to hearing more about the amazing things my kiddos are doing.  What I didn't count on was the effect this would have on their teacher, their families, and even the international community.  Kaitlin received hundreds of thousands of kwacha (our currency) and was able to buy 54 Bibles and is donating the rest of the money to help with other needs in Adziwa.  As cool as all of that is, I have to say, the most moving event for me was watching Kaitlin's mom come off of the boat.  (Kaitlin's dad had left a few hours earlier with a nasty bout of seasickness, so he was actually in the water swimming out to meet her.) This wonderful momma watched her daughter endure some really really hard things in those 9 long hours.  She had hugs for everyone around, but soon collapsed into a chair nearby, exhausted physically and emotionally from the experience.  She'd just done a really hard thing- watched her daughter endure unnecessary pain for the good of someone else.  Talking to her later, she told me of Kaitlin's determination and attitude.  I can't quote directly, but basically Kaitlin told her after everything was over, "Ya know, mom...we prayed for God to take away the storm but instead He gave me the strength to endure it."

What a beautiful picture, ya know?  First, of a mother's love.  Hope you don't find me blasphemous, but God is given motherly imagery in scripture- such as the idea of a mother hen gathering her chicks under her wings to protect them.  So I see this mother's love as an incredible picture of God, ever beside his children, watching them endure the storm that He's allowed to come their direction, knowing it's for their good.  Not to mention a picture of God's love for Christ, allowing Him to make the ultimate sacrifice on MY behalf.    And then, the love of her father, standing anxiously on the shore, waiting for her to arrive.  Soon, that wasn't enough.  He couldn't just wait.  We watched him excitedly wade into the water and swim in Kaitlin's direction, escorting her in, swimming the last meters with her.   I mean, how much sweeter does it get?  What wonderful love Christ gives us- not just waiting for us to arrive at the finish line, but swimming out to meet us, experiencing the trial with us, meeting us where we are.  And finally, I was so encouraged by Kaitlin's perseverance.  Like she said- I'm sure they prayed (we all prayed) for God to provide calm weather and good conditions on the lake.  Though conditions were save, God chose to let the storm come, and instead of sheltering Kaitlin, he gave her the strength to press on. To endure.  What faith in such a young girl to trust her Heavenly Father in such a huge task...
Kaitlin inspired all of us.  This young lady's determination and faith are beautiful things.

And I don't mean in any way to take away from the work of any of my other students.  Their tasks are challenging in so many ways, be it working with people from other cultures, organizing and scheduling events, or simply finding time in busy schedules to take on more responsibility than has been expected of them in the past.  It's a huge thing I'm asking of these kids.  I'm asking them to be adults.  To give of themselves sacrificially.  To take on a burden that they normally would not.  But as they go, I hope you'll be praying for them, that God will give them strength to endure.  And I hope you'll pray for me as I attempt to guide them through the process.

And most of all, I hope you'll endure whatever storm you're currently swimming through.  Search for strength in the God who cannot turn you away. The God who feels, who understands, who is running to meet you, who is allowing this for your good, though his heart is pained with every agony you endure.  As Paul (or whoever wrote Hebrews) encouraged us,  "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run  with perseverance  the race marked out for us,  fixing our eyes on Jesus,  the pioneer  and perfecter of faith. For the joy set before him he endured the cross,  scorning its shame,  and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.   Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."  

Sunday Blogday

I've decided to make Sunday my blog day. I feel like I don't update enough these days.  I mean, I don't suppose there's any prescribed time line for blogging, but every Sunday I think I'll try to share a little of what life has been like in the past week.  Or if nothing else, a little of what's been going on in my head.

This week was exam week at the academy (yay midterms!) so I've stayed pretty busy and pretty run down.  A twist of fate (so to speak) left 9-11th grade with the ability to get out of school at noon Wednesday through Friday, which was probably the biggest blessing I can think of.  But, in the midst of the chaos, I started the week on a pretty low note. Discouraged, tired, and overall very negative in my attitude towards things like waking up, going to school, teaching high schoolers, etc.

My friend Liz (Elizabeth McCormick, people...go see how amazing she is) is serving in Mexico at an orphanage right now, and about the middle of the week a facebook message popped up on my screen and Liz, knowing I was feeling a bit downtrodden, was challenging me to join her in this idea of counting blessings, writing down the little things every day that make life beautiful. The things that reflect the face of God in the midst of chaos and confusion.  A few things from her list: (which was much longer than this)
teeth flashing smiles in darkness
warm blankets 
jagged shadows on brightly painted walls
running barefoot

So I decided to join her.  Now, I have to admit I was slow to the draw- I only have a few things on my list right now, but I plan to add to it every day.  I know there was this facebook trend of "I'm thankful for" statuses approaching Thanksgiving last year, and it was nice, but I have to say some days it felt like reading lists of "look how good my life is" instead of "I'm so undeservingly blessed."  So this week especially, and hopefully every day I have in Africa, I want to look for the small things that can bring joy to my life.  The details that God took time creating and weaving into my day just to give me a smile and breathe some life into his weary daughter, whose circumstances aren't always bright. So far, here are a few things I've found...

raindrops on a tin roof, and the cool air the rains bring
Abi's tiny little braids and her sweet voice calling hi to "Aly and Allison," always in that order

late night giggles from Pam when she hears me doing dumb things
the joy someone middle schoolers got from toilet papering my car
the colorful organized chaos of the market, and the baby sleeping through all of it

warm pavement on bare feet walking home in the rain

Here's to you, Jesus. Thanks for brightening the circumstances. Thanks for the details.

all our fears are washed away

"When we see you, we find strength to face the day.  In your presence, all our fears are washed away."
I led our church in this refrain this morning.  Proclaimed it to the body of believers with which I worship.

Let me just say, the past week has involved a lot of chaos for me. My professional life (school) seems to be spinning out of control.  I won't give you details, but we started the year short staffed and are 5 upper school teachers shorter since then.  I feel overworked in every way, and feel like I haven't the ability to do my job well.  One week back from Christmas and I'm already feeling the weight of burn out.  I don't say this to ask for pity, though your prayers are greatly desired.  I would really love that.
The point, though, is that on Friday, I was pretty convinced I couldn't face the next week.  I was ready to be done with the stress and chaos and hard work that never seems to be quite enough.  And then, this morning...

When we see You, we find strength to face the day.

I mentioned earlier feeling incapable of doing my job well.  I've discovered recently that I elevate success to a much higher place than I thought.  There are some strange reasons for that, but of course it all hits back at pride, in a roundabout way. I am terrified of failing.  Realizing that this sounds terribly arrogant, I'll say I've never had much trouble with academics.  I'm good at school.  I AM an academic. I didn't ace all my classes in college, but I came out well.  Greek was a challenge I gave myself, and was one of the first times in my LIFE that I risked failure of my own accord.  I mean, I recall the risk and subsequent embarrassment of a senior piano recital (I am not a pianist)...but I didn't feel like I had much choice in that.  And for the record, I did try to back out.  I quit things when I realize I'm not gonna succeed.  When I don't do well on something, my identity is challenged a little.  Allison is good at stuff.  And when she's not good at stuff, she doesn't attempt that stuff.  Therefore, Allison (almost) always succeeds.  So when Allison fails, I have a hard time reconciling that with my view of myself.  Again, I realize how arrogant and hollow I sound.  This is me being vulnerable.  I've been terrified and my identity has been challenged in this whole teaching thing this year.  It's not easy.  And I don't always succeed in the ways I would like to.  And I don't know who I am. And that's terrifying.  So I want to quit.  And then, this morning...

In your presence all our fears are washed away.

Is it any wonder the next line of the song is "Hosanna!"?  It's an eruption of praise, of joy, of pure delight that God restores my dignity, tells me my failure is inevitable and his love is unchanging, removes my fear and confusion, identifies me with his Son, and gives me strength to face what's ahead.  Just enough for today, so that I'll continue to seek his face and to hunger for his presence.  It's the only way I can survive.

You are the God who saves us! Worthy of all our praises!  Hosanna!! Come have your way among us, we welcome you here, Lord Jesus!

Home

There are a million things I could write about tonight. It's been a while, and in the short (read: VERY LONG) month since I last posted, so many things have happened.  Christmas programs, dozens of graded papers, 3-4 days of airplanes and airports, months of planning coming to fruition in one big surprise, hugs, laughter, tears, hellos, goodbyes, and lots of turkey-eating.
My time home was a huge blessing, and a much-needed period of rest and escape.  It came on the heels of a slight emotional breakdown, and ushered in a few more, but was truly a blessing.  It's amazing how a change of scenery can offer a change of perspective.  Sometimes we need to escape where we are to see our surroundings a little more clearly.
In the past month, I think I've started to come to grips with how much sacrifice has been involved in this whole journey.  My heart has been divided between two homes, and two groups of people I love very much. And it seems easy to stand in the middle and hold on to both, but no matter how hard you try, the thick ties binding you to each extreme begin to slip from your grip.  If you don't let go of one, perhaps you'll be stretched too far... Perhaps you'll never return to your normal, proportional, balanced self.
Every repetition of "just six more months" in the last 3 weeks heightened my awareness of the stretch.  I felt it in every "we can't wait til your home for good."  And though the well-meaning loved ones surely meant to comfort, my discomfort grew each time.  A little more stretching...a little more distance between one half of me and the other.  A little more of the irreversible change.
I started asking why. Why me, God?  Don't you know I have this tendency?  Don't you know this is more than I can handle?  Why would you choose me for this journey?  Why does it have to be so hard? Why is one home so easy and so comfortable, and the other so difficult, but so fantastically purposeful?  Why are there 8 stupid hours between the two?  Why is communication so tough?  Why can't I be rich enough to make this whole thing easier? (Because, though money does not buy happiness, it sure does help if you wanna see or talk to someone on the other side of the world.)
Well, God didn't really give me an answer. But here I am. Thankful for this opportunity, slightly bitter at times that it isn't what I'd like it to be, and often hurting that whether my time here ends, or whether it continues, the stretching and longing and missing and distance will always be there.  That's how you can pray for the missionaries you know.  Their hearts will be torn in cruel ways- between the people and places God has called them to love, and the people and places they were born loving.  And neither of the loved groups will fully understand until they've been called to the same journey.  Someone will always feel hurt or left behind.  And that is how I know this earth is not home.  It just can't be.  And I guess I'm glad.
So, six months til I will leave Lilongwe for Mississippi.  I feel the clock ticking even as I type.  I feel the questions that aren't yet answered about the future.  Whether my return is "for good" I cannot say, though I highly doubt it.  One thing I do know is that I won't be home for good until I've reached my eternal dwelling with Christ Jesus.

Then Jesus said to them, "If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself, take up his cross daily, and follow me.

  As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.” To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, let me first go and bury my father.” And Jesus said to him, “Leave the dead to bury their own dead. But as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.” Yet another said, “I will follow you, Lord, but let me first say farewell to those at my home.” Jesus said to him, “No one who puts his hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

(Luke 9:57-62 ESV)

Now great crowds accompanied him, and he turned and said to them, “If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple. For which of you, desiring to build a tower, does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete it?
(Luke 14:25-28 ESV)