At some point in the time Nora and I spent living together, this quote from Lau Tau appeared on my bed written (scribbled?) on a napkin. I've kept it in pretty good sight ever since its mysterious appearance, not because I fully agreed with the quote or understood it, but because I wanted to work with Lau Tau's thought, push against it, find where I did agree with it. In essence, I wanted to make my interpretation of it my own.
As I've been at training here in New York, we've talked about a host of things: race and power dynamics, self care, insurance, discernment (aka finding out what God wants for us), calling, gifting. On top of all this, we've been meeting new friends and laying the foundation for deep, intimate friendships unlike many of us have ever had. Throughout our conversations, games, and meetings, I have spent a lot of time thinking about my identity of who I have been, who I see myself still being. I am an employee of College Place Presbyterian Church where our church is going through major changes and the senior pastor, a man I really respect, is going through an incredibly miraculous but dangerous surgery. I am a volunteer and youth directorperson at Touchet School where all the kids are getting ready for fair. I work with the youth in Walla Walla where they have begun school and some of the kids I've been babysitting since birth are in kindergarten. I am a swim coach and my high school girls are in their first week of practice. I am a student and I haven't had to buy school supplies. I am a perfectionist and I want to do everything systematically and well. I am a volunteer (very short term) at Harbor Covenant Church and miss all the relationships that I began forming with the kids there. I am an athlete without a pool or a weight room. I am all these things, but they don't work here. In this new context, they don't make sense.
Yet, I still am who I am. That's where I struggle with this quote, and that's a lot of what we've talked about in our meetings. Despite my attempts to define myself and state "who I am" by "what I am", the things listed above, those are not who I am. I am a daughter, a friend, a child of God. I am white, in the eyes of the majority of the world, I grew up wealthy (and still am). I am Christian, meaning simply no more than I want to follow Jesus and emulate him in my life as much as possible. I have gifts and I have struggles many that are unique to me and many that are shared with all of humankind. These things just begin to describe "who I am" but they definitely do a better job describing "who I am" than my former description of "what I am" did.
From the sound of our meetings, we won't fully know "what we are". According to the current plan, I will be a teacher, I will be an adopted daughter of a family, I may be a translator (once I know the language), I may be a tour guide, I will be a member of a Guatemalan community.
Thinking about this quote, I'm realizing that in order to become what I might be, I need to let go of what I am. That doesn't mean pretending that the last 25 years of my life never occurred, but it does mean that I cannot beat myself up for this decision to follow God's will for the next year and leave all the things about what I am that I love. Instead, it means recognizing that those experiences have built me into who I am and who I am is traveling with me. Once I let go of what I am, I make room to become what I might be in Guatemala. However, who I am will go with me along the journey (and being the relational person I am, who I am has been greatly influenced by all of you).
I get to embark on the exhausting yet exhilarating and exciting journey tomorrow of flying to Seattle, driving to Wenatchee, being a part of Andrea and Paul's wonderful wedding, driving back to Seattle, flying back to New York, all in a matter of two days so I can be here in time to fly to Guatemala. I have been scared for this. My departure Monday was less than presentable (let's just say that when you cry over a text message that your dog is sick and in the cone of shame, you're emotionally exhausted). I wanted so much to back out, to go back to what I was, to fix stuff, to be a part of my former life. I think this weekend will be a good opportunity to reattempt flying out, and leaving stuff behind.
Once I let go of what I am, I will become what I might be... and I'm really stoked to see what that will look like.
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