Those moments, between landing and waiting for my baggage on the conveyor belt, between getting my baggage and finding the foreign face that is supposed to pick me from the airport to the unknown destination- are the most anxiety-ridden ones. Leaving my parents from the airport, laughing and re-assuring them that I'm a big girl now, have been a big girl since Cambodia, Nepal and India, is difficult too.
I'm a big girl, dad, I'll be okay. No mum, I don't need that siren-gadget to get away from muggers, or rapists. I'll take good care, and stay close to the missionary doctors. Promise. See, I have a mean face too, to scare bad people away- RRAAAH.
For the first time before I leave for a foriegn land alone, I feel very much at peace this time around. Scared, too, yes, but largely at peace. I know Someone's looking after me. At peace, but also emotional. This missionary thing challenges me from a place deep within. I cannot think about it without feeling like crying. I'm still a little girl inside after all.
I just need some time to myself. Breathe some fresh air, read a few good books, and study in between while I can for my exams which are after Christmas. I have been physically very, very tired- and I know going for a mission trip isn't exactly one's idea of taking a break or a vacation. But I like it where there are trees, clouds, quietness and simple, humble people. My soul cannot rest in a city. I want to be completely Well. I want to know what Being Well means. I have been getting well, I have been well for some time, and I want to continue being well.
I was walking home from the train station that day, lugging a whole stack of health-education pamphlets I had got for the missionary doctor, for the health education programme he was organising in the village he is going to take me to. It was very heavy, and amounted to weighing a good twelve-kilos. I never quite figured out how I managed to lug the stack back home by myself.
I thought about Illness. What it meant. To us, and to the poor.
The body is a reflection of our spiritual and emotional states of health. The gaunt, starved body is a reflection of one's emotional hunger inside. The lack of periods, which really is a disorder of the body's natural rhythm, is a reflection of the disorder in one's life. When my emotional states were healed, and my White Place put everything back into divine order, I became Well.
They said the pain in my chest, around my heart, is an inflammation, a self-attack on body tissues, mainly on the bone and cartilage around my chest area. Nothing serious at all, but could well parallel the many self-hurting thoughts I grew up with. Anorexia wastes a lot of bone and cartilage, and amenorrhea speeds up the process exponentially. I remembered that documentary- a thirty-year old woman with amenorrhea for a year and a half will have the bone density of a seventy-year old woman. There are consequences, but I will be well.
I am unlearning many things, so I can learn what the right ones are. And when I do, I know this pain will go away. For good.
The body is a reflection of our spiritual and emotional states of health. It's going to be All-Right.
I'm going for this trip to learn more about what it means to be a missionary, and to listen to what God has to tell me about it. I'm going there to breathe some fresh air, and learn what it means to be well.
And what being well means to the poor.
It's going to be All-Right.
I promise to share with you interesting stories when I've the time and inspiration while I'm there. Where I'll be, except for the few days in the village, the internet will be too. Rest, books, time alone with God, simple people and peculiar strangers.
Thank you all for praying for and loving me.
I feel very loved. Thank you for all your notes, prayers and love.
Thank you for walking this journey with me. I will miss you.
It's going to be All-Right.
Isaiah 6:8
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