After writing the title of this blog I laughed at myself because I quite literally have no socks in my drawer right now. My "physical inadequacy to do work because it's almost summer" has effected just about every aspect of my life including the laundry pile. Hence, the vacant sock drawer. ANYWAY...
At the Rotary Conference last month Uncle Jack said something like, "You all better get a pair of thick socks soon!"
We all looked at each other, and after a few moments of confusion he explained, that in the next few months and as our departure dates creep closer, we will ALL get cold feet.
At first you think to yourself, "Psh! Not me! This is such an awesome experience and I can't wait to fiesta en las discotecas!"
But the feelings are inevitable, inescapable, and REAL. You don't realize how much you actually loved Mrs. Kowalski's class. Yes, I said it. Because those 42 minutes of pure stupidity with Nicole by my side bring me so much happiness. And the school cookies taste better and better with each one that you eat. Tad's visits to my locker bring some kind of comfort just because he's there, and seeing Mr. Petrillo's perfectly rolled up sleeves make me smile because the "sleeve-roll" is just one of the many arts that he has perfected.
This little town that no longer serves a boundary for my life is something that I will surely miss. Every day in 5th period I stare at the countdown that Mr. Miller wrote on the board. Each day decreasing by one. One day further from Pitman. One day closer to Spain. Each day my feet become cooler.
Of course all of these doubts/feelings that blur my thoughts at night have forced me to plunge deeper into my faith and thirst for reassurance, support, and strength. People look at me like I'm something great...
They say, "Wow. That's gonna be so hard. Wow. Ten months!? I could never do that! Good for you!"
But what I want everyone to realize is that I'm not as great as you make me sound. Ten months is a really long time. And I am just as scared as you would be and just as "cold footed" a any other student that has been in this position. I even spoke to a mother who said that her daughter cried and begged to let her stay home, but her daughter still went and is now loving South America.
Now hopefully I never get to that point (the crying and begging I mean) but still, It's scary. I'm only 16!
I read this in one of my favorite books a few months ago, and it spoke right to me-
In fact, it seems that good-bye is a word all too prevalent in the Christian's vocabulary. Missionaries know it well. Those who send them know it, too. The doctor who leaves the city to work in the jungle hospital has said it. So has the Bible translator who lives far from home. Those who feed the hungry, those who teach the lost, those who help the poor all know the word good-bye. Airports. Luggage. Embraces. Taillight. "Wave to grandma." Tears. Bus terminals. Ship docks. "Good-bye, Daddy." Tight throats. Ticket counters. Misty eyes. "Write me!"
Question: What kind of God would put people through such agony? What kind of God would give you families and then ask you to leave them? What kind of God would give you friends and then ask you to say good-bye?
Answer: A God who know that the deepest love is built not on passion and romance but on a common mission and sacrifice.
Answer: A God who knows that we are only pilgrims and that eternity is so close that a "Good-bye" is in reality a "See you tomorrow."
Answer: A God who did it himself.
Ugh! I love Max Lucado's books!
Those three years that Jesus traveled and grew his ministry, where do you think Mary was? And Joseph? Jesus was away from home and away from his family, and they undoubtably missed each other! But there was an understanding that He was fulfilling a purpose that God had set for Him. And although Mary missed her child, and even watched later as he took his dying breath, there was always a deeper truth. There needs to be an understanding like that in all of our lives; an understanding that God's plan is more important than anything else. It requires selflessness, commitment, and faith.
There is no doubt in my mind that this trip to Spain is His plan for me. And although each day is a mystery, I hope that someday I will be able to look back and say, "Wow. That year changed my life, and helped me to fulfill His blueprint for my every step." The good-byes, tears, and heartfelt embraces will merely be a "see you soon" when compared to the eternal life that we will live together. And that is nothing to cry about. So bundle up those feet baby. The journey is just beginning!
