Ups, downs, and lasts.

"But I will hope continually and will praise you yet more and more." (Psalm 71:14, ESV)


What a whirlwind week it's been! Sunday, my roommate returned home from a 3 week trip out in some surrounding villages. We were able to spend the next few days together catching up, having fun around town, and making up for lost time.

As the week progressed, I found myself becoming more and more despondent. I watched my temper fuse shorten to a dangerous length. Thoughts of leaving Nepal filled my mind.

The people I will miss, the experiences I won't get to have another time, the culture I will be leaving behind.

It all came to a head Friday morning in grand fashion.

My roommate had gone to her office for the first day this week and that left me by myself at the flat. That's never been a problem, I have always enjoyed what we call "i-time." Or, the time I have to relish in my introverted nature.

I was working on my computer one minute, and next thing I know, I was a puddle of tears on the living room floor. No clue how I got there, no idea what triggered my dramatic flare of emotion. All I know is that it was brutal.

The next several hours were spent in vacillation between complete calm and indifference, and sobbing uncontrollably. It was exhausting. And quite confusing.

I attempted to sort through some of my clothes to try and distract my mind. I ended up sitting on the floor with a glass of water.

I survived the rest of the day in relative peace, only to be bombarded by the same emotions the following day.

Saturday was yet another last for me... My last girls club. This youth group has been my baby, my pet project. The highlight of every month.

To celebrate our last time getting together, I invited the girls over to my flat for a different kind of girls club. We ate snacks, did facial masks, and had a grand time.

My girls with their mud masks. I've never looked so white.

At the end of our time together, they all stood and sang me the sweetest song. It talked about how sad they were for me to leave, and that they will hold our memories in their hearts forever.

Oh, the emotions.

These girls are my heart, and yesterday it felt as though it was being ripped out of my chest.

They made me a poster with sweet notes from each of the girls. This has a prime real estate spot on my bedroom wall.

I know that all good things must come to an end at some point. And girls club was a VERY good thing. But that doesn't make it hurt any less. And it compiled more unpleasant emotions in my heart.

If leaving is this hard already, I can't imagine what heart ache the next 3 weeks will bring. I wish I could slow down time. I wish I could stop the painful process of leaving. But I know, and trust, that behind every challenge and trial is a lesson. Something that will help to form me more into the woman God desires for me to be.

T-minus 30 days.

I will be leaving Nepal in ONE MONTH. I don't think that I have words to describe or express to you how incredibly bittersweet that is for me. Yes, I will be returning to my passport country, my first home. To family and friends and familiarity. But I will also be leaving behind my adoptive country, my second home. My new family and friends, my new normal.

There were many moments, and some times those moments lasted days, over the last 11 months when I thought I would never see America again. When it felt like the end would never be in sight. Yet, here I am. Almost finished with my time here, and far more captivated by the terror that it's actually ending than the terror I felt when I thought it never would.

But instead of wallowing in fear, anxiety and trepidation, I want to celebrate. Celebrate the amazing people I have met, the incredible experiences I have had, and the unforgettable memories I have been given.

So, to highlight my new normal, here is a list of things that I will no longer be doing in a month....

• Chatting with my Didi over chiya every Tuesday and Thursday
• Riding, un-seat-belted, in taxis barreling down narrow alleys
• Letting my girls play with (really, pull out) my hair
• Bartering for EVERYTHING I buy
• Trying, and failing, to eavesdrop on the Nepali conversation happening at the next table
• Teaching English to my kids
• Being ogled by Nepali men
• Catching up with the corner grocery man when I go shopping
• Visiting with our widows while they bake (and sneak me treats)
• Using my pinky finger to indicate I need to use the restroom
• Closing my eyes, holding my breath, and saying a prayer as I cross the street
• Bouncing around on the back of a motorbike with no helmet
• Waggling my head to indicate assent
• Talking to my kids about Jesus
• Feeling outrage at the price of a can of tuna ($2.50) vs the price of a kilo of asparagus ($1)
• Entering the shotgun seat of a car on the left side of the vehicle
• Pointing at things with my lips and nose instead of my fingers
• Watching the regularity of (or lack thereof) my bowel movements to determine my health status
• Buying out the grocery store's entire stock of refried beans, who knows when you'll see them again?!
• Falling asleep to the symphony of barking dogs, honking horns, and restaurant karaoke 

What an incredible gift I have been given, to spend the last year in Nepal. To grow in ways that weren't feasible to me before. To be closer to becoming the woman that God desires for me to be!

There have been good days, bad days, days when I just sat and cried, and days that I never wanted to end. And through it all, God has been my Rock. My fortress. My joy, shelter, friend. My Lord.

As it comes to an all too abrupt ending, and I face the uncertainty of what comes next, I believe that God will continue to be those things for me.

I am forever grateful for the friendships I have formed, the cultural mistakes I have made, the kids and widows I have loved on. These are memories I will carry in my heart. And memories that I will continue to make until my last day.

The brightest blessings.

"The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace." (Numbers 6:24-26, ESV)


Holy heartbreak, Batman.

Today was my last day of teaching English. The day that Megan Miss went into retirement. Easily one of the toughest days I have faced during my time here in Nepal.

The hard part wasn't that I had to stop teaching, honestly it's a bit of a relief to have the weight of their English education lifted off my shoulders. The hardest part was walking out of that school knowing the impact those kids have made in my life, and realizing that there is no way I could ever repay them.

When I started teaching back in April, I went into it with the attitude that I could really teach these kids something. That it was good they could have a native English speaker to teach them proper grammar. I allowed myself to believe that somehow I could be a blessing to them.

And little by little, incident after incident, God humbled me. He showed me that while I had the intention of blessing these sweet kids, He had the intention of smothering me in blessings more numerous than I could count.

The cunning wit of Class 5, who never fail to bring a goofy grin to my face.

The smiles and nervous giggles that were responses to jokes my kids didn't quite get.

 

The wildly enthusiastic greetings I received when I walked in to teach Class 6.

The days when it was more fun to tease each other than it was to learn.

The catch-phrase Class 7 and I would say when no one wanted to answer the question. "Anybody? Nobody?"

The hands I got to hold each morning when I walked our Nursery kids to class after chapel.

The obvious desire for knowledge that class 8 showed on a very regular basis.

The bliss that filled my heart whenever I was with my kids.

These kids taught me about patience, compassion and having a thirst for God. They made every moment I had with them memorable. They brightened each day that I was able to spend with them.

And as I walked out of school today, and resigned from, quite possibly, my favorite job, I found myself smiling amidst the tears. The time I had to spend with them was a very special gift from God. Time that I wouldn't trade for anything in this world. I am so beyond thankful that God called me out of my comfort zone to step in front of these classes and assume the roll of teacher.

And I am more glad that He has given me peace in the ending of it. It feels finished.

Here's to the next month of loving on my kids, and the blessings that it will bring.

Initiated, at last.

"Two are better than one, for they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls, and has not another to lift him up!" (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10, ESV)


This week, a childhood dream came true. I joined a gang. And not just any gang, an exclusive Nepali gang.

Over the past year, I have seen this gang of four hanging around my neighborhood. They lurk behind people, wait for them outside of stores. But people seem to ignore them. Turn their heads when the gang approaches, pretend to not notice they are being followed.

Let me explain.

This gang is made up of four very young street kids.

I see them around in my neighborhood maybe once every month or so, and they stick around for a day or two. Each time I see them, I make a point to buy them a juice or some cookies, and we sit on the curb together and chat while they consume their treat.

What they really want, and what they ask for, is money. But I'm not comfortable just handing out money, and they have never said no to a snack!

This week I saw them for the first time in almost 2 months. I was so excited that I crossed the street to go talk with them. They recognized me right away, quite possibly because I'm the only white person who comes running up to them yelling things in Nepali.

We all held hands as we walked to the corner store, and they waited outside while I bought us all mango juice boxes. Then we sat together on the sidewalk while we drank.

I had never asked them any personal questions before, I didn't want to make them uncomfortable, or get too deep too soon. But this week I decided to dive right in and see how comfortable they are with me now.

I asked them how they knew each other. The oldest, a boy, and the youngest, a girl, are brother and sister. Krishna and Vishnu. The two boys in between are friends. They met when Krishna and Vishnu's parents passed away, and they went to live with the family of one of the other boys.

That was two years ago when Krishna was 6, and Vishnu was only 2. Both of the other boys are now 6. Neither of their families can afford to feed all of the kids, so they send this gang of four out each day to beg for food and money to feed their families. Whatever they bring back that day is what they have to eat.

They carry the weight of their families well being on their little, tiny shoulders.

None of them go to school, even though Krishna and the younger boys should have been attending for several years now. According to them, they have more important things to do.

While we were talking, Vishnu crawled onto my lap, and snuggled up with her juice box. I chatted with the boys a bit longer, then noticed that the young girl was fast asleep, drooling mango juice that she apparently forgot to swallow.

As she slept, we talked about important things like their favorite kind of candy and who their favorite soccer player is. After about fifteen minutes of hanging out, it was time for me to go. We woke up Vishnu, I took their trash to throw away, and then I started to say goodbye. Before I could finish my first sentence, Krishna asked me a very important question...

"You are our friend, no?"

I assured him that we were friends, and that we always would be. He looked relieved.

As if that wasn't enough, he proceeded to teach me their secret handshake. After I memorized a series of snaps, claps, jumps and shakes, we parted ways.

It's funny how God can give you some of the most unlikely friendships in the most unlikely ways.

And how, at the end of it all, you might find yourself a part of a street gang.

Reckless uncertainty.

"We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek." (Hebrew 6:19-20, ESV)

"I have one desire now -- to live a life of reckless abandon for the Lord, putting all  my strength and energy into it." ~Elisabeth Elliot



I'm at a point in my journey in Nepal where people are constantly asking me the dreaded quesiton of "What will you do when you get home?" Fair enough. I see the logic behind that question. I understand the curiosity of what do people actually do when they come off the field?

If the roles were reversed, I can almost guarantee that I would be asking the same question.

I try to always be prepared with a viable answer or two in my back pocket. I try to say something that will make people nod in agreement and have kind words to say like "yeah, that's a great plan" or "it sounds like you've got it all figured out."

Basically, I will say anything to satisfy them and get them to stop asking.

Not because it's an annoying question. Truly, it's not. I enjoy that people care enough and are curious enough to ask. But, rather, it's because I actually don't have an answer to that question. And it fills me with anxiety.

I have never developed an affinity for the unknown. I have never enjoyed spending much time there. But that is exactly where I find myself.

I have no idea what I want to do with my life.

More importantly, I have no idea what God wants me to do with my life.

There are endless possibilities. Literally. And He hasn't shown me even the slightest bit of direction or preference as to which path He would have me follow.

Maybe I'll live in America happily ever after. Pick up where I left off on the quest for the proverbial American Dream. Perhaps He's calling me to the mission field full time. Whether that's here in Nepal or off in the deserts of a remote country. Fingers-crossed and prayers sent that I'll be married and have kids some day. But what if, down the road, God asks me to be single?

The possibilities are overwhelming. They make my brain hurt.

But I do know this one thing, this is the answer that has become my new response to my least favorite question...

"I have one desire now -- to live a life of reckless abandon for the Lord, putting all my strength and energy into it."

Elisabeth Elliot did just that. She lived out her live with a fierce love of the Lord, even when things didn't unfold the way I'm sure she had planned.

And I plan to follow in her footsteps. Wherever God puts me next, whatever vocation He calls me to, whoever He brings into my life and my heart, I will always pursue Him. I will always trust that He knows better than I do. No matter how hard, stressful, exciting, confusing, or enthralling my life becomes.

Shouldn't we all live like that? With God at the center of our lives, we should have the ability to live with reckless uncertainty. Because we have access to the single most certain thing in the world...Christ Jesus.

He is the anchor for my soul. And I will rest in Him. And I will trust in Him. I will pursue Him.

I will live with reckless abandon for HIM.