Life here at MTI is a mixed bag. On the one hand, I am surrounded by wonderful new friends who are always around for a fireside chat (or cry, let's be honest) or a game of Settlers of Catan in the evening. The children have so many friends to play with. We are surrounded by the beautiful mountains of Colorado, AND it snows here! It all sounds pretty great. Until you think about the intense sessions that we face every day, the lack of privacy or alone time, none of your friends or family are here, and the real kicker for me, I haven't been able to cook for a month!! When I am stressed, I cook. I love to feed people. Feeling anxious? I must need to bake something! It is my coping mechanism of choice, and it is completely unavailable to me.
Last week, we participated in a simulation in which we had to spend an hour in a small wooden box with 16 other people, hiding from rebel forces who were known to be attacking Christians. It was intense! I had not been a part of any type of simulation before coming here to MTI. I don't think I could explain the experience very clearly in this format, but I am so thankful for the commitment of these trainers to do hard things so that we have an opportunity to confront our fears in safety. It is amazing how a group of people who were strangers three weeks ago can pull together to care for one another in our weakness. It was a hard day.
This week we have spent a lot of time talking about stress. The "long-term, hard to manage, unrelenting" stress of the cross-cultural mission field. Fun, right? But that's not all. We also discussed conflict, the different styles and how widely they vary in each culture. We learned that we will absolutely, unintentionally (likely on a minute to minute basis) offend the people we are going to serve. Today we talked about grief and loss. Many tears were shed. We spent the day talking over the losses we have experienced and making sure that we had properly grieved them. In grieving, we acknowledge our need for our Father and we experience the blessing of His comfort. He is the Father of all compassion and God of all comfort. We cry out to Him, "Father, Help!" And He does.
Tomorrow we learn how to say good goodbyes. More tears. More mourning. I cannot imagine leaving these people. We have grown so close, bonding over shared tears and fears, joys and heartaches. They have become a part of our story and we have become part of theirs. But the reality is, we have only known one another for a month. How am I going to leave my family? Or the people who have become my family over the years? I am blessed by rich relationships with dear, godly women. We live in a community of believers who love fiercely and loyally. How do you walk into an airport with all of your earthly belongings in a few suitcases and say goodbye to the people you love? I cannot imagine leaving this life and these people behind. I am confident that the God who sends us is faithful and that we can trust Him with our family, but on days like today, I am just thankful that He is near to the brokenhearted.
