Two Down, One Hundred to go...

Everything is beginning to fall into place, as I'm checking items off my list of "Missions To Do". I got a couple more items checked off my list yesterday: the Meyers-Briggs personality test and the Chaplain's interview. Seems small, but I'm that much closer.
The personality test wasn't hard at all, except for the last section with problem-solving questions. My goodness, you'd think I was applying to Medical School! Number sequences, fraction division and word problems all stared at me from the page. I should have had that extra cup of coffee I declined... But I'm a smart girl and I think I got them all right. I did some scratch work and confidently filled in to corresponding bubbles. I was just smoothing the edges of the last circle when the administrator came in and... Well... Apparently, I wasn't supposed to write on the question booklet. Haha. I knew that... At least they fed me lime water and nanaimo bars.
Right after, I ran to the Chaplain's office and had an interview. His approval takes my application to the committees that give the final go verdict. I was really nervous because I had decided to be completely honest about the depression issue and I didn't want him to recommend I didn't go. I trust him a lot and he would be the first person I would go to with questions and problems, but this was something that could affect my future! I am not willing to let anything stop me and if my university doesn't approve my application, I'll pack a backpack and go anyway. But I said a prayer and walked into his office.
I should have trusted God a bit more on this one. Pastor A listened to what I had to say and when I said that some of my depression comes from a sense of guilt that I wasn't doing more for other people, he said something that few people have ever mentioned to me before. 'It's ok to take care of yourself.' He told me that Jesus left the crowds and the cities and the noise to go up to the mountains to pray because He needed to take care of himself. I had never thought of that before, strange as it may sound. It was pure relief to hear that I don't have to always be serving to have a servant heart. There are times when I need to recharge and relax and fill myself up so I can give to others.
The verdict was his approval and he supports me in my decision to go. That means a lot to me because I truly respect him and look up to him. He's balanced and understands that people don't have to be (and won't be) perfect. I trust him and his opinion matters to me. So with his approval, I feel the apprehension dropping away more and the excitement growing.
So, my list of things to do is shrinking. Two down, one hundred to go...

And So It Begins

Last night, I dotted the last i on my Student Missionary Application. I've started the process of committing my life to nine months of volunteer work in a foreign country. Am I crazy? No, I'm passionate. Am I excited? Yes, more than I have ever been before. Am I scared? Yes, more than I have ever been before; honestly, I think it's a healthy fear.

I've been planning to go as an SM since I was six years old, and that's not an exaggeration. My dad took a group of his students to Fiji when I was in the first grade (or maybe even before - I don't remember exactly) and when they came back with all their stories and pictures and new attitudes, I knew I wanted to be a missionary. Both my parents had served as SM's - my dad in Thailand and my mom in the Marshall Islands - and it was natural for me to follow in their footsteps. I planned my year of service all during elementary, middle and high school and now that I'm in college, I can finally go. I have a physical, daily countdown (set for September 1 for simplicity); today marks 172 days left. I'm nervous, excited and distracted from school with the dreams running through my head.

Despite my enthusiasm and long-time wish for this moment, everything has not been the perfect preparation I thought it would be. To be completely honest, the application packet sat on my desk for weeks, untouched, while I performed a Shakespearean play and then caught up in school. When I finally remembered it, I started filling in each blank with gusto, until I came to the bottom of the first page. I was asked to rate my physical, mental and spiritual health.

The form sat on my desk for another month, glaring at me, and whispering doubts were behind my daily thoughts. I was now terrified of that form.

You see, I have seasonal affective disorder - cycles of depression depending on the weather. It's been with me since I was at least 15 and the last five years have seen some fantastical highs and devastating lows. But I have learned to love myself despite the anxiety and deep sadness I feel, at times, for months. I've found that summers and sunshine and outdoor freedom help a lot and that winter and rain and indoor prisons do not. I've learned that I can fight it if I choose, or I can let it destroy me. Who I am today is a complex, beautiful person and S.A.D, at this point, is a part of that. It's getting better and I'm healing, but I'm not perfect and that's why the application form was just sitting on my desk again.

If I was going to be completely truthful on that form, I would have to rate (out of five) my current mental health at a three, and maybe even a two at times. Physical health - easily a four and spiritual health - a three or four, but mental health can get pretty low and that's where my doubts came from.

What if I can't go because I'm 'mentally ill'? 
What if they make me go to counseling and people look at me differently?
What if I lied and said I was fine?
What if I got there and the experience was terrible because the depression got really bad?

What if I really just wasn't good enough to be an SM?

I fought with my questions and my doubts for a month, praying, crying and yelling at God, asking why He had given me a dream that was in danger of shattering because He also made me suffer depression. Was one pain not enough? Did I deserve to lose this dream? Was being depressed my fault?

I never got a final answer - still haven't actually. It frustrates me, but I'm choosing to move past that. I've decided to go. And I've decided to be honest. I know that I have to leave this country and help those who have absolutely nothing and no amount of doubt is going to stop me. I'm a stubborn girl and I'm not giving up on this one thing I've wanted since I was six. 
God has given me a drive for service and the ability to act on it. So if He can use people like doubtful Gideon and suicidal Elijah, then He can use a sometimes-depressed college girl from Canada to do amazing things.

And so it begins.