I'm going to tell you a story that has repeated itself one too many times in my life.
Seems like everyone's crying. Except for me. They all probably think I'm some heartless person who hasn't grown to love them as much as the rest of us. But they're wrong, I love them, I really do. I spent a good 8 days translating for this group of students and adults from Prairie Christian Academy and I loved every minute of it. I watched them struggle, cry, and laugh together as they poured themselves into every single day that they spent in Colombia. I saw a passion for God in these people like I hadn't seen in a volunteer group in a long time. They impacted my life, and I thank them for that. But, after 8 days they left. It was a short term missions trip, it was a great trip, and we shared such powerful moments that tears were inevitable on their side of it. But they didn't come from me. My face looked cold and emotionless in that crowd of hugs and goodbyes. But they wouldn't come, the tears wouldn't come. I wanted to cry, but not because I was so moved by emotion, but because I didn't want to seem like a heartless person. I didn't cry because it wasn't anything new to me. I had been saying goodbyes my whole life, and I was over it. Not to say that I wouldn't miss them, because I did. But then again, how many times had I gone through this-- spending a great week or two with a group of people I came to know and love, and then saying goodbye. I just knew that I would most likely never see them again. I knew that the odds were against us, and, like too many other relationships, they would fade. We would hold on, quite pathetically for a while to the traces of whatever is left of our friendship. But it will trickle until all is gone and we have nothing left to hold onto. We couldn't hold onto memories from 8 days to keep us close. I would still love them, and I do, but I couldn't just hold on.
Now before you say "Sierra, you really are a heartless cold beast, what a jerkface," let me give you a little information that may give good reason to my cruelty. My parents are missionaries. Have been since before I was born, will probably be till the day they die. I've lived in 5 countries, including Brazil, Aruba, Venezuela, Colombia, and good old US of Hay. The first time I remember really having a problem with saying goodbye was when we moved from Aruba to Venezuela. Up till this point I really hadn't said too many goodbyes, at least not like the ones I would face for the next several years. I had spent 7 1/2 years in Aruba. It was my home, my childhood, pretty much all I knew. All I knew about Caracas, Venezuela was that it was a big city. This can go far in a child's imagination. When dad had to go visit before we all moved, I imagined him sprinting across a city, which happened to be on fire, as he dodged bullets that were coming at him from all sides. Needless to say, I was afraid and had no idea what to expect.
In the time slot of those four years we lived in four countries, with four cultures, spoke a total of 4 languages, went through most of that horrible middle school stage in 3 different small private schools and one large American public schools. I had met so many people, made so few friends, and said too many empty goodbyes. I was emotionally exhausted. Why would I try to settle when I would be on to the next place before I could enjoy it?
The three years after we left Aruba was when I lost my place with people, because they were never the same, and found it in resentment. Resentment didn't change; it was there, consistent, when the rest of my life wasn't. I hid myself in bitterness and anger. I stopped caring and started pretending.
It had felt like my childhood and all that came with it, all that I knew, was slipping through my fingers, and I had no control at all. When you're in middle school you have no sense of identity, and I had lost everything I thought made up who I thought I was. So who was I supposed to be? When you get tossed around so many places with so many people at that age, you don't know who to be anymore. So I just imitated whoever I was around. I lived under the radar because nothing about me was different; because I wasn't "being me," however cliche that sounds. I was just pretending to be the person everyone else could be friends with. I didn't stick out because I did not want to. When I am really being me I stick out like a sore thumb because I'm loud and considered very weird.
In a time when you'd imagine a kid's angry rebellious side would come out, my anger brewed within. I seemed to be handling it very well, I worked hard to get the Honor Roll, if not High Honor Roll every quarter, I participated in ministry with my family and school, and I had fit myself into a group of good wholesome kids. My parents had nothing to worry about.
All this time I had grown cold. Since then, God has really changed my heart and I've bound myself to Him, but the 4 years of inconsistency left its marks. In the four years of high-school at ECA and North Side, I had met so many volunteer teams, made so many friends, gone so many places, learned so many names that they all blurred together after awhile. You can only have so many deep, intentional, and lasting friendships. I found that I would politely meet these people, enjoy the time I had with them, and then just move on with life, without thinking twice. Whenever it was time to say goodbye, I gave them a hug and sent them on their way-- I had said too many goodbyes for them to really affect me anymore. I had learned to befriend people and detach as easily as if I had never met them. There were too many people for me to truly care about them all.
When I started realizing that I had become so cold, I called for a change of heart. I wanted to really care, be intentional, and one day miss these people I was meeting. And I did, and I do. But I don't cry. I know I am able to now be open with people and build friendships, but unless I can see them sticking around for a long time, I can detach just as easily. I do think I've matured, but I'm realistic. I love people, but I can't wear myself thin trying to build friendships with them all. I know my limits, and I know that life happens and if the odds are against the friendship, if it isn't very developed, I won't be very intentional. Keeping great friendships over distances is hard, but worth it. Building great friendships over distances is almost impossible.
Back to goodbyes. Many of the goodbyes I say so often seem devastating to some people, but to me, they have become common. I can't just break down every time I have to say a "hard" goodbye, or I will never cease to be emotionally exhausted. Not that these goodbye's aren't hard, but they've become a part of my life, so I get over it. Yes, that sucks, sometimes life sucks. But there is nothing on earth I can do about it but thank God for letting me have those people in my life, if even for a little while. Telling me "it shouldn't be like that, you shouldn't have to say so many goodbye's, I can't imagine how horrible that is" doesn't make things better. I really do just fine, these goodbyes don't tear me apart inside, I'm used to it. Saying those things doesn't change anything, so while I get over it and move on, you can too.
Right before leaving for Christmas break-- to go home to Colombia-- I heard a lot of "oh goodness, two whole months, I am going to miss you guys so much!!" And I told them all I would miss them too, but I can tell you I probably lied to most of those people. Two months, are you kidding me? I hadn't seen my parents or best friends in 5 months, I think you can survive 2 months without the 300 people you've recently added on facebook. I'm not sure I even feel bad for having no, if any sympathy for some of the other students who were getting choked up about not seeing each other for 2 months. Maybe this makes me selfish, maybe this makes me resentful, maybe I just have a long list of crap to sort out and deal with.
I don't mean to sound like I don't care about my friends at Union, because I love them, but when I'll be pretty living with these people for a good 9 months of the year, and I'm only spending 3 weeks at home. I'm not really focused on missing them. When I was in Colombia for 3 weeks, I didn't have time to miss anyone back in the States. If I told you I missed you, then that probably means there was a moment or two when you came to mind, but for the most of you I did not spend my time thinking about you and what you were doing, sorry to say.
I didn't feel sorry because I knew that 3 weeks later I would be saying goodbye to my parents and some of best friends for a year. Yes, 12 months. I had to really hold my tongue finals week, but I am not today. I know its not their fault for having been fortunate enough to be close to family, but I wanted them to realize how amazingly blessed they are to GET to spend 2 months with their families, see them on Thanksgiving and Fall break. Yes, I have family in Tennessee, and others who are as close as family, but they are not my parents. They are not the dad that teared up at every graduation event or the mom that poured into my life while cooking me curry. Those three weeks I spent at home went by too quickly and the night before leaving I laid in my bed and cried. I cried because I realized that I would leave, after only 3 weeks, and not come back for a year. I realized that a lot can happen in a year. People can get sick, people can be in danger, crap happens. Don't mean to scare you all away, but because my family lives in Colombia, there is always that constant fear in me that something will happen. Its generally a safe place, but come one, we're talking about Colombia- civil war, rebel armies, and drug country.
I cried because I knew that for the next year I would have to deal with not having my family there. I wouldn't be able to just go home for the weekend to get that time with them; I would have to hope that they happened to be sitting at the computer signed onto Skype. When I process things, I do so verbally. If I trust you, you being very few people, and you're close enough, I will talk your ear off for hours in a conversation with myself as I process stuff and solve things and you won't even have to say a word. When I deal with things, I do it alone. This is why most of the times that I've cried, I'm alone in my room. Yes, this is quite pathetic, but I'm one of those people who puts up a strong front to keep from being vulnerable around others. When I deal with things, there's no processing, just thinking in circles with some "this sucks" thrown in there. On the few, and very few, occasions that I have dealt with something in front of/with someone, I break down, or I shut down and get cold. Well I realized that this whole not seeing my parents for a year is something I'm going to be dealing with often. I know I can't deal with it on my own for the next year, and so I'm telling you this. God has been there every time I break down, He has comforted me, He does so now, but He doesn't like it when His kids hurt alone. And so I write. I'm going to be dealing with this, as I am now, and probably be doing so on a few other occasions throughout the year. Just writing about dealing with it brings me to tears, because writing the words about my parents makes me miss them that much more which reminds me that I won't be seeing them for a long while. Its a vicious cycle. I've decided that I will not try to cover up my pain here like I will to your faces, and I will be honest and vulnerable and broken. Its going to be a messy ride, hope you don't get too disgusted by the wreck that is my life.
The Head and the Heart got it spot on in "Rivers and Roads"
A year from now we'll all be gone
All our friends will move away
And they're goin' to better places
But our friends will be gone away
Nothin' is as it has been
And I miss your face like hell
And I guess it's just as well
But I miss your face like hell
Been talkin' 'bout the way things change
And my family lives in a different state
If you don't know what to make of this
Then we will not relate
So if you don't know what to make of this
Then we will not relate
Rivers and roads
Rivers and roads
Rivers till I reach you
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