What We Miss and What We Gain

Lately, I've been feeling like I'm missing out. Life is moving forward without me and I'm stuck in this house in Afghanistan. When one is abroad, away from the little comforts that (we think) keep us sane, one feels as if she's losing. This is a leg in culture shock that I find particularly difficult to push through. I miss meeting friends for coffee, sitting on a back porch with a good book in the rain, dressing up for a party, talking to my mama on the phone. I am missing out on my nephew's brand new smiles, my little sister finishing her last semester of high school, my brother's comings and goings from college to home and my friends' company and laughter. There is no doubt in my mind that our coming here is and was a sacrifice. But is it worth it?

Aaron and I often ask each other this question: "remind me again, is this worth it?" We wonder why we are giving up a normal life for one where we are never close to home and our lives are in a constant state of flux. We arrive somewhere and the next thing you know, we are going. I imagine that people have a hard time wanting to make friends with us since we are always leaving. The truth is: it hurts. We know that it's hard for those we love to see us go. It's tremendously difficult for us. I struggle with compartmentalizing these feelings. What I have discovered, or rather uncovered is a way to let those feelings exist without allowing them to rule over me.

In times of crisis or major life transition, we tend to suppress the anxieties that be or we give into their full power. I have experienced much of the latter because this is how I'm wired. Here in Afghanistan, it's almost easier to suppress the stress. One must make it through the day and there isn't much of a platform for crying or "freaking out." Life must go on here and there. The cold hard reality hits and we must choose whether this is what we want or not. Regardless of our circumstance, we are missing out on something. If I had chosen to stay in the States, I would have missed all of this. The wild smells in the marketplace, the mountains of Mazar in rugged wonder, the little dipper in a foreign sky, my husband's sacrifices on my behalf, girls in woven colors with little lights in their eyes, little boys in paran-tam-bones running through the street, zig-zagging, chests and hands out, freedom on their heels, grins as big as the bright sun above.

If I could have it all, I would, in a heartbeat. It's comforting to know that His craftsmanship spans the universe in time and space. I sit under the same lights in the painted sky as you, and I dream. It's enough to know that I'll see you again one day soon. But for now, I live in a different time and place than you. I'm learning and growing. I'm weary and down many days here. I'm as happy as can be at other times too. I'll share everything with you when I get home and you'll share with me too. We won't miss out on each other, I promise. Our time will be richer than we've ever known. Relationships are little gardens, surprising us with new vegetation and keeping us rooted with the old. All of you loved ones are a part of each day here, in this strange, new world. You may not know it, but you keep life growing in the little gardens I'm planting. Yeah, it's all worth it.