Transitions

This song brings me back. I was sitting on the concrete floor of our Ohana Court on the Thursday night as this worship took place, over four hundred people around me, and I wrote one of my most powerful blog posts from my time there. That week, this song could be heard being sung all across Hale Ola and the university campus. 

I can't believe that God gave me the gift of living in Kailua-Kona for three months. 

I've been asked by many people how I'm doing being back. Transitioning back home is more difficult than I could've expected it to be. I've cried a lot. I've panicked, realizing how far away I am from Hawaii that I can't simply jump on a plane and be there again. I fight post-missions depression. Every time I talk about my time there, it both hurts again and heals my heart, and every time I think about missing that place, I hold back tears. I've gotten angry at the cruelty it feels like, having tasted of the purpose and fulfillment I felt there and now not knowing how or when I'll ever be back. 

But amidst it all, I'm given a choice. To be angry for its end. Or to give thanks for the time that I did have there. 

I choose to give thanks. 

I listen to this song. I close my eyes and I'm back home again Kona. Right there where I left behind most of my heart. And a peace and comfort overwhelm my soul even the midst of this chaos and transition. I relive my time there, the memories, the beautiful land. 

How could I not praise Him Who gave me that precious time? He is faithful in every circumstance and every season and He completes every good work that He begins.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=v-mvnr7tlNM

Aloha kākou

Monday, March 21st, 2016

3:38pm

Ohana

~a wave lingers on the shore for but a moment before the tide calls it on, but on the sand behind are left shells, showing where once it touched and left its heart

I've cried so many tears since this morning. We all have. In six hours, I'll be on a plane bound for Los Angeles, taking me farther away from this place than I want to go. Some of us have already left; most of us will be leaving tonight. These three months will be behind us, like a fantasy, a dream. 

But I knew this day had to happen. Before coming to this island, I had a terrible fear of it. A part of me that never wanted to come. Because if I never came, I would never have to leave, I reasoned. I knew it was going to hurt this much, saying goodbye. 

But it was worth it. So worth it. Every tear, every heartache, every ounce of hurting in leaving this place. If given the choice again to come, my heart would say "yes" before my lips could speak the word. Absolutely yes. I wouldn't trade this time for anything in the world. 

This last weekend, we've been trying to prepare ourselves. Promising each other that we wouldn't cry and breaking that promise. Talking with nostalgia of the sweet memories we made when we first came here. Begging time to stop so we could all stay here forever. "I'll break the hands on all the clocks and watches." Trying to rationalize against God calling me home for now a way that I could stay longer. Making tearful plans and promises to visit each other around the globe, so unknowing of what tomorrow brings but grasping for comfort in the time of parting. 

Were he still here, one of my guy friends would remind me now that I'm strong and would tell me to "hang loose" and not to focus on the sadness of leaving but on the excitement of what's ahead. My roommate would tell me that it's okay to let myself cry. And one of our staff tells me that the tears and the sadness of leaving and missing people only means that I loved well here. And the truth is, they're all right. There's a time to cry and there's also a time to move on. Never looking back, never feeling regret, never holding back. God meets us right where we are and walks with us in every step. 

Love and love well. Be present. Laugh often. Dance. Lay under palms and dream big. Dig your toes in the sand and be still. Stay up late and watch the stars. Go hiking in the rain. Shout at the sight of rainbows. Meet new people and draw friends close to your heart as family. Life is too short for fear of goodbyes. 

Aloha kākou.

The Thing about Traveling

And here's the thing I think about traveling. It changes you. Places become a part of you. You meet new people and they teach you new things. New languages, new perspectives, new cultures. And it grows you and shapes who you are so that you go back different than you once were. 

Kailua-Kona, it's been awesome. I'm gonna miss everything about you and your three-mile-downtown stretch that used to drive me mad with boredom just a month ago. (Except for the tourists hogging your sidewalks. I won't miss your tourists. They're like Atlanta rush-hour traffic in pedestrians.) You're one of the best things that's ever happened to me and while I can't deny any longer that I'm leaving in two days and I'm living my "lasts" here with you now, I won't say goodbye. Just "see you later until next time." You'll always be home for my heart. 

A hui hou!

Preparing to Leave

Four days left. Four very busy and therefore, very short days left. Four days left here in Kona, Hawaii before a Delta plane will land my feet in Atlanta, Georgia again. Funny, for the past three years, this was all I wanted. To come serve the Lord in missions in Hawaii. Now I've been here. I've served. And in four days, it will be over. 

It's brought my heart to a great deal of reflection. I've watched new Mission Builders arrive. So full of zest and excitement, so wide-eyed with wonder at this place. I see myself in them three months ago. 

But I'm past the stage of newness. Past the stage of infatuation when you begin falling in love with this place. With the opportunities it offers. With the freedom. With the adventures. With the amazing worship services that jump start your spiritual life on a growth spurt. I watch them discovering the best sights of Hawaii. Hiking, taking their first road trips around the island, getting drunk on the wanderlust this place floods your soul with. I watch them discovering the best places to eat in Kona, the best beaches, the best coffee shops, and the best places to watch the sunset. I used to be that person. 

I'm past the stage also that they don't know yet. The stage of boredom. Of confinement. Of feeling trapped, as if I would lose my mind if I didn't get off this island and out of small-town Kona. "Island fever" they call it. I'm past that too. 

And now these last two weeks, I've entered a new stage. Three weeks ago, I was so excited to be going home. Apart from vacationing, I had no real desire to return. Now I'm excited, but my love for this place nearly equals now my desire to see oak trees and front porches of the South again. For the first time now, I know how people can stay here. It isn't that you ever stop missing your home place and that you never still have your moments of feeling homesick: your love for this place simply becomes greater than your desire for home. This place becomes home. 

I've cried immensely now already at the thought of leaving. This past week, I've discovered a part of my heart that doesn't want to leave. 

I've reached the stage of comfort. Of familiarity. That breeds a deep deep love. Like a cozy fire that burns and keeps you warm on the coldest nights. There's no newness here anymore, but there's also no more fear. Somehow in this stage now, my heart has found a home here. 

And I think this is the stage in which people decide to stay forever. 

You've been good to me, Kona, and I'm leaving forever changed. 

#ywamkona #missionbuilders #kokuacrew