“We’re leaving for good.”
I broke the news
to my ladies two weeks ago. Their reactions stunned me. The jewelry workers got
angry, didn’t-talk-to-me-for-three-days angry. Everyone threatened to leave the
project. Emotions of mourning.
Last week, we had
our exit interview. I cried as I described how I felt every experience of my
life has prepared me for this season. Fulfilled. Friday, we gave away our plants to friends
eager to care for them. Satisfied. Yesterday,
I cleaned out the drawer of my bedside table. I reminisced over Russian candy
wrappers, language flash cards, and 7 year old florescent notecards holding
farewell prayers. Supported.
On the weekends, we
have enjoyed cruising the web, dreaming about how we could update our Olympia
home. Eagerly anticipating. Every once in a while, Jim, grinning ear to ear, gets out our one-way tickets just to read
them, to feel closer to going home. Excited. One of my ladies teases me that if
she could find and hide those tickets we couldn’t leave. Loved. How can one heart
feel such opposing emotions: excitement, giddiness, glee, dread, fear, and
heart breaking sadness simultaneously? Emotions of mourning.
Our chalk board
has read: “104 weeks” . . . “99 days” . . . “4 Mondays” . . . We’ll make our final
descent down five flights on October 16, 2014. This chapter of our lives is
ending. This adventure full of notable Facebook posts is coming to a close. I
thought I was eager but I find myself sad! Emotions of mourning.
When we get on
that plane, we will leave a part of ourselves in this Outer Mongolia, south of
Siberia. This place, language, life that once seemed other worldly, has become
home. ‘Mongolia’ has been seeping into our blood for more than 14 years. This
leaving is not sudden. From the beginning, we anticipated being here for 6-10
years. The Lord whispered to us 3 years ago that this would be the time for our
departing. Yet anticipation does not soften the transition. Emotions of
mourning.
We’ll miss the
collection of ancient perspectives, home remedies, and traditions. We’ll miss
functioning in two languages, trying to teach our tongues to pronounce parades
of consonants. We’ll miss conversations about extreme weather, mutton and mares’
milk. We’ll miss keeping our eyes peeled for new sights and behaviors. We’ll
miss our deepened dependence on God, the stretch of doing what seemed
impossible. We’ll miss being part of radical changes in people’s lives. Emotions of mourning.
We look forward to
going home: to flowers, green grass, smooth roads, to salty crunch, gentle rain
and being within hugging range of people we love. But we’ll not forget the joys,
the struggles, the faith journey, our Mongolian family. We have entangled roots.
Names of daughters, sisters,
grandmothers have been etched onto our hearts. Emotions of mourning.
