Last week turned into a blur. After skiing with Jack on Monday I came home with a nasty sore throat. Tuesday and Wednesday I did nothing but sleep. On Christmas Eve I felt well enough to get out of bed and wrap presents. By Christmas Day I was almost back to normal.
We had a wonderful Christmas. The kids opened presents. My brother and I watched the very last Grateful Dead show, which he received as a Christmas gift. He did a bunch of updates on my computer. Then we had a dinner of ham and turkey. For the first time in my life, I really enjoyed ham. Jack is not normally a huge eater, but he had four servings!
I spent Christmas night with my brother and his family. The adults stayed up late, talking and watching a movie. Saturday we went to see Star Wars in 3D at an Imax. Normally I would not care about seeing Star Wars, but the boys were really excited so that made it fun. Mom was sure it would give them nightmares, but they seemed fine.
When we got home from seeing Star Wars Mom learned that her close friend, who recently had a stroke, was back in the hospital after suffering seizures while she was alone in her apartment. Mom took in her friend's dog for the rest of the day, while I went to visit the Rice's for the afternoon.
Today is Sunday. One more night in the US, and then I head back to Honduras. I always get a little (okay, more than a little) anxious at this point. It's hard for me to fully enjoy the last few days with goodbyes looming in the future.
Constantly saying goodbye is probably the hardest part of being a missionary. Sometime it feels like my life is a series of goodbyes. Teams come to visit. At first they are strangers. But after serving together, a bond develops that is not possible to create under other circumstances. Then they leave. In the beginning you message each other. Time passes, memories fade, and soon you struggle to picture the face of someone who once was so close.
Missionaries who worked side by side with you for months, or years, are called back the the US. Despite good intentions, we will probably never see each other again. The missionary field can be a transient place.
When it comes to family, goodbyes are even harder. Visits to the US are bitter sweet. Don't get me wrong. Each visit is a huge blessing and not something I take for granted. But the process is not easy. First there are the goodbyes to my home in Honduras. Leaving behind the people and the life I love, missing holidays with the people who share my everyday life, is not easy. I worry about many of them when I am gone. I miss my friends and my church. A lot.
This is not a complaint. Just sharing some feelings and insight into the life of a missionary.
Visits to the US are wonderful, but saying goodbye to family is the worst. Knowing I will miss milestones, or just the day-to-day stuff in my nephews' lives hurts. Seeing photos on Facebook is not the same. Knowing my Mom (though she is healthy and strong, PRAISE GOD) will not be around forever makes each goodbye more difficult.
I even think about the fact that I will not be the same person the next time my family sees me. Those changes become more obvious the longer we are apart.
Visits to the US are a gift, wrapped with a bow of goodbyes. Each person I am blessed to see is also another goodbye. I spend the last days of my time in the US dreading those final goodbyes.
I try hard to focus on the fact that we are blessed to spend this time together. Before I became a missionary, my family and I didn't get this much quality time together. So it really is an exceptional gift.
I just hate saying goodbye.
