Struggling to Leave

Tonight I packed up our belongings in preparation to leave Kessenuma. It was a bittersweet feeling, but the job is done. We have cleaned and locked up the center for the last time, eaten bento (convenience store lunch food) in our room for the last time, and tucked the boys in their shared bed for the last time. The suitcases are basically packed for the next leg of our trip - our hometown of Misato!
I'm so excited to meet our old friends and visit the places Dan and I have reminisced about so many times over the last few years. There's a sense of anticipation hovering in the air and there are so many hugs that I cannot wait to give. There has been such a hole in my heart as I lived apart from some dear friends and finally tomorrow we get to see them again (and so much sooner than I imagined we would!) However, I'm struggling turning the last page of this chapter of our journey, sad to leave Kessenuma.

This trip has given me a mouthwatering taste of true passion. I've really reconfirmed that this "get your hands dirty" kind of work is what makes me tick and makes me feel alive. I thrive on helping people in a tangible way, seeing the difference that we can make in an individual's life. This faith in action lifestyle is good for me on so many levels... I really am battling internally with the idea of going back home.

Of course I have to return - our visas are only good for 90 days and we definitely wouldn't have the funding to continue this adventure for very long! :o)  Not to mention our families' protestation (I think my Mom might get on a plane and drag us home herself!) But there's a huge part of me that feels in turmoil about going back to my life in Cheyenne after feeling so alive here in Japan. So much of my life feels mundane and routine... laundry, dishes, driving Kai to school... I feel like passivity is an easy trap to fall into at home. Our time in Kessenuma had clearly defined purpose for us (and especially for me).

Perhaps this stems from a deeper issue. When Niko was born, I scaled way back on how much I was working as an independent contractor for a few organizations and became a full-time, stay-at-home mom. The rewards of that on one level have been great. I love my boys and we've learned how to make our family work while Daddy works during the day (Dan went to work full-time at Sierra Trading Post shortly before Niko was born after a few years of being self-employed). However, at the same time, the apparent loss of identity as I became "just" a mom was really difficult for me. I feel like this trip has reignited a part of my driving force - that I am useful beyond changing diapers and entertaining toddlers.

Of course I'm surrounded by friends and family that tell me of my worth, even on my less-than-spectacular days as a mom. And I love and need each one of them dearly. But this trip was so eye-opening to me - there is such a calling out for help in this world - and a need for those to answer the call. And my soul feels that tug. My hands ache to work, my feet yearn to run. I want to do THIS. I want to dig in roots where there is such obvious need and DO something about it.

But we have to leave.

I anticipate the well-intended comments and encouragement that I can find ways to help wherever I live, that perhaps I can continue this project from afar. I know there will be people who discreetly frown on my desire to help elsewhere when there are social problems in my own neighborhood. But God has instilled in me a passion to help where others cannot and I am finding it difficult to reconcile this with the rest of my life right now - particularly when we have poured so much of ourselves as a family into this project this month and we have to stop midstream.

We knew that this would be a "short term" project for us and we knew we'd be leaving (perhaps) as soon as things were really getting going. Ideally, we would have been here for a year or more, giving the center continuity, establishing long-term relationships with residents, and truly becoming part of the community. However, that wasn't in the cards for us (we do have responsibilities at home, you know... darn bills... can't pay themselves...) and we just have to look ahead to whatever may be next for our family.

This trip didn't come without it's challenges. Living in a hotel has exactly two perks: clean, freshly-made beds every night (one of my very favorite pleasures in life) and seemingly endless hot water for showers (another guilty pleasure of mine). However, they didn't outweigh the hassles of living in a Japanese hotel for a month. The lack of a kitchen meant we ate out or ate bentos WAY more times than I ever care to in a one month period ever again. I love bentos, but really... needing a break. I cannot WAIT to eat some Mexican food when we get home. Yum. Living in such close quarters with the family was tough on all of us. There wasn't enough room for a rambunctious 3 1/2 year old to play, run, and wrestle with his daddy; we were constantly hovering near Niko (when he wasn't being held) in fear of him falling off the bed (which only happened once, miraculously!); I was SO thankful for my earplugs on the nights that all three of my boys were snoring like old men (unbelievable... seriously!) Dan and I somehow mananged to never lock either room key inside the rooms (we only got one copy of an "old-fashioned" metal key with a bulky plastic key-chain that we had to turn in to the desk every time we left the hotel). And there was smoking allowed in the lobby, so every time we came or went, we were greeted by a cloud of cigarette smoke or the remaining pungent, stale odor. And the parking lot was a bit of a mystery. There were cones that tended to change locations every day, blocking off certain spots some nights but not others... not the ideal situation for a van that was exceptionally long for driving in Japan. We definitely will not miss those things and make the thought of returning to our own home with our own things that much sweeter!

That being said (and please do not get me wrong - the mission here was WONDERFUL to provide us with our hotel rooms for the duration of our stay here!!!), the hotel was comfortable and had great proximity to the office, allowing us to walk when it wasn't too cold. We got to immerse ourselves in the neighborhood as much as we could and supported the local businesses as often as possible. There were a number of unspoken friendships shared in glances and smiles with the local shop owners and neighbors as we passed by each morning. I made friends with a tea shop owner one of our last days here. Her generosity was the quintessential example of Japanese kindness. And one of the hotel staff members (she runs the café on the first floor) and I had several good conversations while we stayed here. I was reminded often of how much I love Japan.

In our time here, I struggled with the language (which I fully expected) but only being here a month didn't push me to really work on improving my skills beyond where I am now. It is difficult for me to learn languages... nothing sticks very well (and it's doubly hard because Dan's God-given talent is linguistics, so it's incredibly hard for this super-academically-competitive girl not to get frustrated!) It was clearly evident that there was so much more depth to what could have been shared in each conversation I had here. I lament the loss of that opportunity.

But over all, through the good and the bad, I still am overwhelmed with a desire to stay... or to move on to the next mission field. Dan and I have learned the challenges with doing this with kids in tow, but we've also learned that it isn't impossible. And I really feel that if we stayed longer, Kai would do just fine - he's really seemed to turn a corner and adjusted in the last week or so. I hate to "throw away" that progress (and potentially start the adjustment cycle over again at home!) And I am not sure how my personal sense of purpose will evolve when we return to Wyoming.

I have no doubt that God did not send us to Japan - 8,000 miles around the world - just to dangle this exciting realization of my passion in front of me and then never allow me to use it again. He's got big plans, I'm sure. I'm just not very good at the waiting part. :o)

As I told my mom, the work being done here is out of our hands. It's never been in our hands - it's been in God's hands. We were just blessed to BE the hands for a time. And that's pretty cool.