Me and Mom
Well, it’s official as possible for the time being.
I am preparing for work in the Fiji Islands. For those of you who have been in touch with me, you have been aware, to some extent that I have been working my way towards moving to Fiji in order to do ministry with women and children. For those of you who are short on details, here’s the skinny:
Last summer I was gifted with the opportunity to visit a ministry near the capitol city, Suva, in Fiji. The ministry there is a residential community wherein several missionary families work to provide prevention and awareness, rescue, and rehabilitation to women and children rescued from sex trafficking. This ministry is Homes of Hope.
Homes of Hope and I put our heads together to see if I could have a role and fill a place there, in Fiji. The resounding answer: Yes. So, after praying all last fall, I came to a point of readiness in February, and I started moving forward.
With some prayer and God’s timing in the bag, I will be looking at moving to Fiji late this summer or next fall. What I have to do now is build my support base back up. Last year, when I made the decision for a year-long hiatus after my dad’s death, most of my financial supporters went on hiatus with me at my request. Now I need to get everyone back on board so I can be financially stable while living in Fiji.
…Okay, there are all the dry details. What really is going on in my head…
I do not think I could have imagined this past year.
To go from Nigeria, to a sudden trip home due to my dad’s unexpected death, living with the reality of life without him, and knowledge that nothing will ever be as it was. One might think that you get over such feelings. Sure, the ache eases, and I smile, and joy fills the day, and there is light. Oh, what light. But just last night, I found myself brushing my teeth, and I wandered into my parents’ adjoining closet. I’ve been in there a lot, maybe because I can still smell my dad in this one place. Their closet has changed shape these past months due to the fact that my mom has begun to pack my dad’s clothes away to give to a local charity. Yet, in this one moment, as I brushed my teeth, it was not the emptied side that made my heart stutter. For a moment, for one moment, I heard my dad’s voice. Not clear, like he was actually speaking, but I heard the memory of it. How it penetrated and resonated, how it soothed because it was constant and represented safety. For that split second, as the carpet was in jeopardy of tooth-paste-drool, I was devastated because the memory of my dad’s voice will fade. And one day I will not remember it, I fear. So I live and laugh, and sometimes I ache.
So, from home last spring to whirlwind excursions to Fiji in June and July and August. Then Jury Duty in the fall. What a hoot that was, and how much fun to be a part of a four-month long trial. I do have a new appreciation for the verbal dexterity of lawyers. I mean, wow.
Now, here I am in April, simply excited. While I treasured the past year at home, I am ready to go, to run, to race, ready to continue the adventure.
