Clipă de Lumină

Here I am eating my sardines (yes, I like sardines) in my hotel room in Grand Rapids, MI. I’ve been contemplating my aloneness, the aloneness that happens everytime I leave. At the moment, it’s probably good that I’m alone since the sardine smell has left the room a little fishy. I’m back from training in Colorado and I miss being there. When I talked to my mom as I was leaving and said that I didn’t want to leave, she commented that I never want to leave where I am. This is only partially true. I love going new places and starting new adventures, but the sadness in leaving the people that I love (even if I have only known them for three weeks) is almost enough to make me never want to leave anyplace again. And I’ve made a habit of leaving for the last couple of years. So I guess that means I’m a sad person. I am sad, but in the midst of the sadness there is still the joy of what comes next and the memories of the people I’m leaving. It wouldn’t be so bad if the people just came with me wherever I go. Places are hard to leave, but they don’t love you back like people. I’m self-centered enough to think that life should revolve around me. My friends should follow me wherever I go and if they can’t do that, they should at least quit having fun when I’m not around.

On the flipside, I’m leaving for Romania in TWO WEEKS!! I am so excited! So here is the paradox: I am in deep sadness when leaving, while at the same time I can barely contain my joy in FINALLY leaving. MTI (Mission Training International) would be proud; they continually talked about the paradoxes in the life of a missionary. I’ve decided that I should no longer be called a “missionary”–it just brings negative stereotypes with it–call me a walking paradox instead.