The other night we went out to dinner with some new friends. It felt normal, natural and easy. And I was so grateful. I remember coming home and bouncing up to Steven saying, "We have friends and it feels so good!" And even though it only happened a couple of days ago, I think I'll remember the moment and feeling for a long while. For it was a sweet reminder and confidence builder that our lives are beginning to take root here. That night I went to bed content and satisfied with the feeling of
I want to stay here peacefully overwhelming me.
But the feeling didn't last long. The next morning I woke up to a painful phone call with my mom. With my grandpa being in and out of the hospital many times since I've been gone, my mom and I have had to have some pretty serious conversations about him. And to be honest, I was beginning to become numb to the news that my "grandpa is back in the hospital". While a couple of years ago hearing that would have been devastating, it was now a quiet expectation whenever I talked with my mom. But this conversation was different. Yes grandpa was back in the hospital, but this time I could hear the hopelessness in my mom's voice. I sat there silently as she explained that there were many things going wrong in my grandpa's body. Possible stroke, bleeding in the brain, liver problems, heart problems, the list went on. As big tears began to drop down my face, I tried to settle my voice as I asked, "Well, what does this mean?" And as soon as I said the words, I knew what her response would be. For it was something I have dreaded hearing my entire life because my relationship with my grandpa has always run deep and strong. "It means, Lauren, that grandpa's dying." And all of a sudden, the feeling of I want to stay here from the previous night was no where to be found. Instead, it was replaced with a deep longing of I want to go back.
And so, yesterday I cried. A lot. Not only for the news of my grandpa's declining health, but for feeling so far away and not knowing what to do about it. Should I go home to say goodbye? Or should I just stay in Thailand? Should I go alone or should Steven come too? Can we afford it? Does money matter? What would grandpa want? What do I need? What will other people think? And because I'm a pretty black and white thinker, I'm not used to this feeling. The feeling of being unsure. The feeling of being so conflicted. So caught between two worlds.
I always thought I'd go back if my grandpa died. When people asked us before we left whether or not we'd come back within our 3 year commitment, I always replied with a "We're not planning on it. Unless, of course, my grandpa dies or if Kelsey or Doug gets married." I guess those were the non-negotiables in my mind and heart. It seems unfair that I would only want to come back for my grandpa, but there is just something so very special about my relationship with him. I don't know why, but he has always had my heart. Maybe it's his sweet and endearing personality. Maybe it's his quiet yet strong presence. Maybe it's the comfort I feel when I get to cuddle up next to him. Maybe it's how tenderly he has loved me. It's an unexplainable relationship, yet anyone who knows me well understands it. When I think about my grandpa and our deep love for each other, I want to go back.
But things are just starting to pick up here. We are finally starting to feel like we are making progress with language. Longer conversations are taking place. Deeper relationships are being developed. We just started helping our maebon (house-helper) open a small bagel business. And as our lives are becoming more settled, my desire to go home lessens. Right now I feel happy and content with my life here in Thailand. I don't doubt this is where we should be. But what if going home makes me question all that? And do I really want to say my goodbyes all over again? Getting on that plane was hard enough to do once, would I have the strength to do it again? To go home and then come back again seems too hard. And when I'm honest about those fears and what they could mean, all I want to do is stay here.
But then I'll ask other missionaries. What would you do? What have you done? And surprisingly, all of them have told me to go home. And to take Steven with me. That location doesn't matter, but family does. That this is the perfect time to go. We don't have kids to think about, Steven isn't in the heat of starting the business yet, we are ahead in language learning and can afford the time off. When we suggested that I just go home by myself, they encouraged us to both go. With this being the first time either of us will have lost anyone close to us, it will be healthy to go through it together. They said it will make our marriage stronger and our calling as a couple deeper. When I hear their responses and the freedom that comes with it, I want to go back.
But it feels so weak. To be going back after just 7 months on the field. It feels less "godly", less "sacrificial", less "missionary". We knew this was part of the calling. When we moved our lives half way around the world and said our goodbyes, we knew there would be sacrifices and we said we were ready to make them. So when I feel a deep longing to go back, my head tells me that I'll be a failure if I do. That people will look at me like I'm not cut out to be a missionary. That I'm not tough enough. That I took on this big endeavor without ever counting the cost. Did I think we wouldn't miss out on things being in Thailand? Life is inevitably going to continue on without us--people we love will die, friends will get married, holidays will be celebrated, babies will be born. I can't expect to go back every time something significant happens. Our lives are in Thailand now. Our lives aren't in the States anymore and I need to let go of thinking that. When faced with this truth, I want to stay.
But what if I regret it. Our friends that have gone home for loved ones have never regretted it. They've never regretted being able to grieve with family. They've never regretted having time to say goodbye. They've never regretted the tender memories that have come with the decision to go back. And so, I know that I would never regret seeing my grandpa one last time. I will never regret being able to tell him what I know about heaven and watch him prepare to meet His King. I know that I will never regret being able to share my hope in Jesus and the new life we can all have in Him. Going home means no regrets. And if that's the case, I want to go back.
But we live on support. And even though we are only accountable to God, I can't help but shake the feeling that we are also accountable to our supporters. It's the most humbling feeling knowing that people are sacrificially giving to us so that we can be here. It's something you can only understand once you've actually done it. People back at home are making sacrifices for us, shouldn't I, then, make sacrifices for them? If we use support money to fly back home, I'm afraid it will seem as though we are being careless. That we don't appreciate all that has been given to us, that we are taking advantage of people's generosity. And the thought of that makes me want to say, "Okay, I will stay".
But this is my grandpa. And that's what I keep coming back to. And maybe it's just an excuse I'm choosing to believe, but this situation is different. Because it's my grandpa. My heart just breaks knowing that I'm going to lose him soon. My heart breaks hearing how my aunt walked through the door and my grandpa mistakingly said, "Hi Lauren". My chest physically hurts from the reality we are facing and the fact that I am not there. I can't even write this without taking breaks to go weep in Steven's arms. This is hard. Not because I haven't counted the cost. Not because I am starting to love our life in Thailand. And not because I have mixed feelings about going or staying. But because this is my grandpa and my heart feels weaker without him.
And so, here I am. Caught between two worlds asking God for help. Knowing He will and trusting in His timing and love for me.
*Update: For now, grandpa is stable and feeling very loved by all the people who have gone to see him. I was able to skype with him tonight and he told me in his sweet, low voice that he was "going to try very hard to get better". I am thankful. Thankful to hear a small sense of hope, but also thankful for the extended time God seems to be giving him, my family and me. What a sweet blessing. With his health being so unpredictable, I am taking comfort in the fact that God holds the world in His hands and is ultimately the One in control. Praise Him.
