I take it back.
Not only have I NOT kept it together today, but I no longer
feel I NEED to.
A received an encouraging email which included the following:
"You can let yourself feel all those emotions and let them break you, knowing that they are so strong because you have been blessed so abundantly with TWO homes on this earth. You don't have to pick. You can belong to both if you want."
I have been blessed--incredibly--by this year in Africa. I got neck-deep in culture so quickly that this place does have a certain feeling of home to it. I will always feel like I belong here, even if I didn't spend years and years. I forget that God blessed me with a heart big enough to encompass two cultures, and forcing myself to pick one isn't fair to me or to God who made me this way!
So in the name of not keeping it together and not needing to, let me tell you about my un-kept-together evening.
Mrs. O hosted a lovely sendoff party for the 4 of us departing teachers. In ICS's 12 years, never have they sent forth so many teachers at once...not a lot of turnover here.
Every teacher from the whole school gathered for a small program (all events have programs here...complete with an emcee!), good food, gifts, goodbyes, songs, cake and ice cream, and pictures! I thought it would just be fun and laughter, and while we had that, it was also incredibly emotional. Everybody was crying!
I was put on a "hot seat" where people could say things about/to me and share stories, which was incredibly touching. One of the teachers, Mrs. A, described me as a strong, brave, and bold woman, and there was a hearty "mm-hmm" from the others - how affirming! Another teacher commented that I adjusted more in my several months than she did in several years. Still another said I have an important teacher quality - the ability to get down to my students' level and then to bring them up. A few of them remarked that they expected me to marry a Nigerian man (no surprise there!) since I have so embraced the Nigerian culture.
It was so rewarding to hear that my coworkers recognize the efforts I've made to adapt. As we say in Nigeria, "I tried-o," which means that I gave it my best and was met with some degree of success.
Later in the program, they asked the 4 of us to stand together and receive a prayer of blessing by Mr. O, who's on the school's advisory board. He began to pray this incredible faith-filled prayer, sending us forth, blessing us, and empowering us for what God has next. When he began to praise God for his mercy which has gotten us to where we are and will continue to guide us, I totally lost it.
God's undeserved love is really the core of my feelings about this year. It's only by God's grace that I stumbled upon the advertisement. Only by his mercy that I didn't totally suck as a teacher. Only by his mercy that I didn't fall sick with malaria or schistosomiasis or giardia or typhoid. Only by his grace that I fell in love with my students and they with me.
Right, so I'm bawling through the prayer. Not polite little tears rolling down cheeks, either. The really ugly crying with the splotchy swollen face and the snotty nose and mascara-y tears. U-g-l-y. It's been a long time since I've ugly-cried, because it's so unpleasant.
After the prayer came the hugs. I'm a really touchy-feely person, but somewhere in the last 6 months, I've started giving that up (NOT HEALTHY) because I didn't want to get too attached (AGAIN, NOT HEALTHY). Somewhere in The Five Love Languages, I'm sure Gary Chapman explains how detrimental it is for a physically affectionate person to deprive themselves of their primary love language. I refer you there.
So I received all these meaningful hugs tonight--not sideways, not A-frame, not 8-year-old neck-strangling hugs--but real, genuine, tender hugs from women who love me and have watched over me and taught me and guided me. It was more than I could take, honestly. I just cried and cried and cried. I would get it all cried out and and stop the gasping breathing long enough to thank these women for what they've done for me and for just being them, and then another woman who has played an important role in my last 10 months would come up and I would start all over again. Again, it's the ugly cry.
When put in perspective, though, it has to be an ugly cry. This is an ugly goodbye. It's not against my will...I mean, I did sign up for this when I didn't renew my contract...but it doesn't make it easy or cut-and-dried or even professional. My job this year has been incredibly relational and personal, so the goodbyes have to be, too. And considering that I may never see some of these women again, it has to be ugly, too.
Here's to the ugly cry, to the women who have helped make me who I am at this moment in time, and to the place I can finally admit feels like home.
just 3 days.
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