On all of my short-term mission trips, I was wondered what it was like to be the long-term missionaries that I met there, and I longed to be them.
I couldn’t wait for that day where I would go home after a week, but I would actually live there.
I couldn’t wait for the day when the cute little kids that attacked me with hugs would not just be cute little kids I played with for a week, but would be my friends, my children, who’s personalities I know so well.
I couldn’t wait to not just be one of the hundreds of westerners who come over and are so excited about anything and everything and just think “everything is so great,” but to truly know what is great and what isn’t so great and to experience more than just excitement with the national people.
I couldn’t wait to be the one that didn’t just come to bring lots of nice things, but the one who stayed.
Well that day has come. At least I’m staying for longer than the typical 2 weeks. (I can’t say that I’m “the one who lived the rest of her life there,” which would be quite a goal.)
What made me think about all this was a team that came from North Carolina one day. They came to Bethany one day just to get a tour and see some of the kids—and to give them lots of stickers and take lots of pictures of course. And then the next day they did a Vacation Bible School with the kids.
They were really nice and it was great to have some muzungus to talk to, if only briefly!
(And almost all of them have internationally adopted children of their own so that was also really cool)
But it was so weird for me to be on the other side. . . .
it was so weird for them to ask ME questions about how things work.. . . .
it was so weird for the lady who was a nurse to tell ME how to take care of Christine because her leg was sprained. . . .
it was so weird to watch them take picture after picture and be in awe of these precious children and for me to sit there and just watch—because I’m with these children every day .. . . ..
it was so weird to watch them tour around the village, with their backpacks and matching t-shirts, while I washed dishes outside my house. . . .
it was so weird for me to watch them leave, while I stayed.
My favorite part about that group was that there was only one college age girl. All the rest were 25 and up—people with careers, people with families, people with children at home.
But their vacation time this year was spent coming to Uganda for a week to see how they can further help orphans.
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