Bitter-Sweet Memories

I sit in front of my computer, tears streaming down my face, wondering: What am I doing here? Why am I living in this huge city instead of living in a small jungle village? Why am I living on the 9th floor instead of living in a hut? Why do I have to spend 10-12 hours a day in front of the computer instead of teaching, working in the garden, visiting people? Why am I not there, in the frontlines of the battle? Why? It is not the first time I am asking myself all these questions. I have done it countless times. In fact, I have done it every time I read or listened to a mission report.

I am watching a video with Sarah and James Appel, medical missionaries in Chad. I watch them speak about God's calling for their lives. The conviction and assurance from their words and voices remind me about my own conviction that He has called me to be a missionary as long as I live. But now, here I am, in the middle of the city far different from the place where I envision myself living and doing mission work.

I watch them speak about pain and death and my heart feels the heaviness of each word. I hear them speak about challenges and I hurt with them again. I remember all the loneliness I faced, all the tears I shed. I can feel again the heaviness of the responsibilities on my shoulders. I remember having nobody to turn to for help and being crushed by the heavy load of my responsibilities. I remember also feeling that I cannot carry on any longer.

I watch them speaking about sacrifices and service and I remember finding out just a couple of months ago about their loss. They six months old baby boy died to malaria. I hurt with them, I cried and wondered why. I also remember Gary and Wendy and the loss of their 5 years old son to malaria. How shocked I was and how my heart ached for them. I think about my sacrifices. They might have felt big once but now they seem small compared to theirs.

I hear them speaking about the primitive conditions they live in: in the middle of nowhere with no electricity, no internet, no phone. I could almost breath in the humid air. I can almost feel the mud under my feet during the rainy season. And I can hear the rain falling hard on the shingles of the girls' dorm. I can hear the baboons barking early in the morning. I can see the fog lifting up in the morning and the humming birds looking for their food. I remember listening to the radio and hoping that the mission airplane will come and bring news from home. I also remember the frustration every time it was suppose to come but it didn't. I feel the expectancy built with each passing day. I can also feel the disappointments every time we had no news.

I watch them speaking and working as a team and I remember also watching Gary and Wendy Roberts doing the same. That's when I told the Lord: "This is what I want!!! This is exactly what I want!!! I will not marry someone who is not mission minded." Seven years have passed since I made this decision and I have not changed my mind.

I have no doubt that I belong there! There is no doubt that missionary blood runs through my veins. One and a half years passed since I came back and one would expect that I will be missing those places less and less and that the pain will be smaller. But it is not. My eyes still get moist every time I read a mission report. My heart still aches every time I hear a missionary speaking. 

But even though I am wondering and hurting again, I know that I have the answer. There is peace deep down in my heart because I know He brought me here. And I know without a shadow of a doubt that I am where He wants me to be. I remember Melody and the long prayer calls we had that revolutionized my prayer life. I remember finding a deeper and more meaningful relationship with my Lord. Than I remember GYC Romania, AMiCUS International Congress, ASI Spain, GYC France, EUD Annual Council, AMiCUS Romania, GYC Portugal and some other events where people found healing and peace, where they had a special encounter with God because of united prayer and because I allowed God to use me. And all this have happened since I came back home. 

I know that there is no service without sacrifice. Sometimes the sacrifices are bigger, sometimes smaller. I know that my sacrifice is worth it. It is worth all the pain, heartache, tears, loneliness and all the times I miss being in the jungle as long as I know that I am where He wants me to be. And for now He has called me to be here.