Re-Entry and Much More

I had been told by numerous people that re-entry is the hardest process of them all when it comes to cross-cultural missions. I believed them then, and I know it to be true now. While still in Guatemala, I had this picture of myself standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down and knowing that I was about to be pushed and having no idea how I was going to land. Right now I think I'm in the falling-in-mid-air part. I can't tell you what it's like to take off in an airplane and watch the mountains that have become home, that hold so much of what you love and who you have come to be slowly get smaller and smaller. Tears streamed down my face as grief washed over me and images and memories flashed into my mind of what I've seen, who I've loved and what Guatemala has been to me. When I was up in the north, in rural villages full of little boys in rubber boots and girls in traditional Mayan dress carrying baskets of fruit on their heads - running up the dirt road to catch up with me and grab my hand. 

Out west at an orphanage where I looked into the eyes of children who have seen far more brokenness and who have felt more hurt than a child should ever have to -their childhood having been cruelly robbed from them. And then back in Tizate, where I lived and did life, where my Spanish improved drastically, and where Guatemala became home. Those beginning months were so difficult and character building. In that season the Lord stripped me of everything and laid me bare - my sin, my pride, my inability to forgive, my lack of patience, and my shallow perception of what I thought love was. I can't help but imagine myself as Eustace in C.S Lewis' 'Voyage of the Dawntreader' when he's desperately trying to rid himself of his dragon-skin but not having the strength nor the ability to do it himself: “Then the lion said — but I don’t know if it spoke — You will have to let me undress you. I was afraid of his claws, I can tell you, but I was pretty nearly desperate now. So I just lay flat down on my back to let him do it. “The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was jut the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off...it hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.” “I know exactly what you mean,” said Edmund. “Well, he peeled the beastly stuff right off – just as I thought I’d done it myself the other three times, only they hadn’t hurt – and there it was lying on the grass, only ever so much thicker, and darker, and more knobbly-looking than the others had been. And there was I smooth and soft as a peeled switch and smaller than I had been. Then he caught hold of me – I didn’t like that much for I was very tender underneath now that I’d no skin on — and threw me into the water. It smarted like anything but only for a moment. After that it became perfectly delicious and as soon as I started swimming and splashing I found that all the pain had gone from my arm. And then I saw why. I’d turned into a boy again. . . .” I was Eustace. God ripped all of my ugly, sinful dragon-skin off and turned me into something new. During that time as I cried out to the Lord, He spoke to me through Mark 2:22, "And no one pours new wine into old wineskins. Otherwise, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the wineskins will be ruined. No, they pour new wine into new wineskins." The Lord told me, "Daughter, I'm making you into new wineskins. Otherwise, you would just break and the new wine that's coming would be spoilt." Those months were the hardest, but man, did I learn. I learned about myself, about who God is, and about who He desires me to be. And then the new wine was poured. I was able to see the Lord and His glorious face in the faces of my children in a new and different way. A deep, incomprehensible, no-strings-attached love flooded into my heart like I had never experienced before for those kids. There's nothing better than the feeling of little arms wrapped around my waist. Or having one of them crawl onto my lap and lay their head on my chest. Or hearing them laugh, and watching them play. Or hugging them tight and kissing their forehead. Or holding their face in my hands just marvelling at how wonderfully they are created. Or watching them worship their Heavenly Father, arms stretched out and hearing them shouting praises at the top of their voice. I've never been a mother, but I imagine that what I feel for my kids is a glimpse of what a mother feels for her children. It's really quite unexplainable - the pride you feel when you look at the little person they are, the heart break every time you know that their heart is broken and the instant fierce protectiveness that follows. And you just want them have the best and to be told every single day that they are special, a treasure, smart, capable, and a loved Child of God. The desperate feeling and panic that rises when there's a chance that one of them might not be coming back to the school next year, because you know and have heard the horror stories of what Guatemalan public schools are like. 

The grief of saying goodbye to your children and not knowing when you'll see them next, holding onto every last hug, both their faces and mine wet with tears. Again, I really can't explain in words how much I love those kids and a day doesn't go by without yearning to be with them. They were and are my greatest gift. 

One of our last days together and one of my favourite memories from this year was when I had all my Gr.3's sit down. I told them that there was an important story I had to tell them. They all sat quietly and listened when I spoke, "When I was 16 years old, the Lord told me that he was sending me to be a missionary. Later on, when I was 18, the Lord spoke to me again and told me He was sending me to Guatemala. He told me, 'Mikhaila, you have to go and see my children at this school, because they are my treasures.'"

My kids' faces lit up, and they asked with huge eyes, "He said that?!?" And I told them, "Yes! And He LOVES you." I continued on about how much Jesus loved them, that He had a plan for their lives, and how much I loved them. Then they all jumped up and almost knocked me over with all the hugs. 

Our last day together my heart literally ached, but I thank God that it was that difficult to say goodbye. I pray that I will never not love someone for the fear of the grief that follows when you have to say goodbye - because that's the cost of loving and it's so, so worth it. I thank God for the promises He's given me about my future and that one day I will go back to Guatemala permanently. I hold onto those promises and will wait patiently with that fire burning in my heart. 

I invite you today that you would ask God into your heart and see where He takes you. To meet Jesus and let Him transform you, fill, heal, and satisfy your heart, fix relationships, and putting purpose into every day. He's waiting for you with open arms.  So here I am. Sitting in my old room in Canada, feeling strange and out-of-place and grieving but knowing that the Lord sent me here with a purpose, and that He is good. I honestly can't believe that I was only in Guatemala for a year. It feels like it was so much longer than that, but at the same time, so much shorter. Like I had just gotten started when I had to say goodbye.  As of now my eyes tend to fill up with tears pretty easily, and it's hard talking to people because where do I even start? How could words possibly do justice to describe what God is doing in Guatemala, who those dear people are to me and all that I've seen and learned? Pease be patient with me and give me grace as I continue to adjust and process, and if we happen to be talking please don't be alarmed if you notice that my 'allergies' start acting up because I hear that this season is pretty bad for that!  Thank you to anyone who supported me through prayer, kind words, or financially. You are officially part of this story, and I ask that you'd continue to pray for me and for my dear kiddos in Guate.  Blessings y con amor, Mikhaila