In seconds, my entire life plan just fell apart and rebuilt itself.
Europe was great, camp was good - but my focus was this next year in missions. I've been reviewing my Spanish, buying clothes for the culture, desensitizing myself to tarantulas (you think I'm joking?) and mentally preparing myself for life in the equatorial jungles. There were a few issues with paperwork that the Alberta Conference was waiting for, but that we didn't know about. Once that was completed, we waited again only to discover that baptism was a requirement. So, I got baptized and waited again. With this delay, I realized that I would not be approved in time to depart in early September like I had initially planned. My mom and I discussed this and I realized that this may be in my favor. Since the first day of my Senior year of high school, the longest vacation I have had is Christmas. I've worked and traveled for school every summer between then and now. Unconsciously, I had mentally exhausted myself. Maybe a break was in order; departing more around October would be easier for the family and for me.
The day after summer camp ended, we began packing my baby sister up to go to boarding school. Within a week, she was gone - all moved in and settled, with friends and homework and band practices. It shocked me a little bit, to see her all grown up and yet still so small. I began remembering all my adventures with my best friend, Nicole, in that same boarding school. I got all choked up about it.
As soon as we got home, I tore my room apart, more than it already was, I guess. Sorting every item of clothing, cosmetic and other stuff that starts with "C" into whether or not it was going on my adventure. I was still waiting the word of approval. We finally phoned and discovered that my doctor's note wasn't good enough for the next level of approval - I needed the form. So, I set an appointment and printed off the form. Through all this, the frustration was building, but I constantly reminded myself that "everything works together" and all that jazz.
I'm shocked now as to how true that is.
I brought in the final form to Pastor A's office, we scanned it in and uploaded it to the website. We called the office and asked them to fast-track the application. I should hear from them by tomorrow. We prayed and I walked out of the office.
As I was passing the secretary's desk, she forwarded a call to Pastor A. He called me back into the office and something about the tone of his voice squeezed my throat like a blood pressure cuff on my neck. I stood in the doorway, unsure of everything. He gestured me toward a chair, which I took without thinking about it. My eyes were pinned on his face and every word he said into the phone scrambled itself somewhere in the air between us. Minutes passed in my mind, but not on the clock. He thanked the speaker and hung up the phone, turning to me.
Nicaragua has never been the most safe country in the world. I was aware of that and ready to brave the dangers in the name of helping those most in need. My family and closest friends knew, and although they were not ecstatic, they were supportive. At some point, however, a line must be drawn between bravery and stupidity. The Inter-American Division drew that line and Nicaragua was on the wrong side. The country was closed to student missionaries. I couldn't go.
I sat in shock. I had been planning this for almost a year. I had made purchases specifically for this call. I had taken classes that would fit in with the health clinic work. I had studied Spanish for hours! What was I going to do now? Nowhere else in Central/South America had appealed to me - they all felt forced and I couldn't picture myself there at all; but to go anywhere else in the world hadn't seriously crossed my mind. I sent up a quick prayer for help and my mother's words came back to me, "Micronesia is frantically looking for teachers. They are going to have to close schools if they don't find people to help." That was it -
that was where I needed to be and I felt instant peace. My shock transformed itself into shivering excitement.
I think he was a little surprised that I immediately knew what I wanted to do, but we jumped right into searching calls in Micronesia. Dozens of calls appeared: teachers for everything from pre-school to high school. I gasped and let loose a series of choked giggles when I saw that there was a call for the school in Majuro - the exact place my mother taught as a student missionary.
At home, Mom and I looked through all the calls and I chose four in Micronesia - two in Majuro and two in Pohnpei. We updated my application, sent up a prayer and went to bed.
This morning, I received an email saying that my application was approved by the sending organization and that I am now waiting to hear from Micronesia as to where I am going and when I need to leave.
I still am a little shocked that yesterday I planned on living in Nicaragua for a year and today I have my sights set on the Marshall Islands. I can imagine the nightmare it would have been if all my paperwork had immediately gone through and I had already gone to Nicaragua. I would have to be expedited, if that was even possible. I could have been trapped there or trapped in a neighboring country. Perhaps all those delays and confusions weren't just human error - perhaps they were divine correction.
