What am I doing here?

For those of you who know me well, I hope that you would agree with me when I say that I am generally a happy person.  I try to approach my life with a balanced view and usually don’t get too overwrought when there are some bumps in the road.  However, I must confess that during my cross-cultural experience here in Guyana, that practice has been sorely tested... and I’m not exactly certain that I am coming out on the winning end!

This all started last week when the water pump went out at the parsonage.  There was literally no running water here and I had to take a “shower” using water from an outside faucet, carried upstairs in buckets to a basin and then filling a pitcher to pour it over myself.  I got a bit panicked by the lack of what I deemed as “normal” amenities and started thinking, “What am I going to do if I have no water for 2 ½ more weeks?!”  (Side note: the water pump got fixed the next afternoon, so I was only without running water for a day… but still, this started the cascade of emotions!)

After this, I think I began doing that thing that the best psychologists tell you that you should never do… I started to cluster problems.  I began to experience interruptions in the internet service (my only link to the outside world it seems), then there were the rolling blackouts that have occurred every two days or so (and usually in the hottest part of the day when you wish you had a fan blowing on you), and don’t let me forget the getting stuck in stuffy rooms with very little air circulating and then you start sweating when you really want to look your best.  Discomfort, inconvenience, and a general chaffing of my Americanized lifestyle that I take entirely for granted.  Suddenly my rather sanguine nature turned surly and recalcitrant… I have been catching myself grousing (in my head, to myself, of course… not to my hosts thankfully so I am not rude!) and kvetching about one supposed slight after another until I can barely recognize myself… All of this from several days of having to “do without” the everyday conveniences that we have in our prosperous, industrialized nation.

So tonight I am confessing this out loud… I’m not putting a warm and fuzzy glow on all of my experiences here in Guyana (even though I had a terrific day today visiting 3 separate churches and preaching and being among the wonderful people).  I am saying plainly and without equivocation… If there is one lesson that my time in Guyana has taught me, then it is that I would NOT be a very good missionary.  I want to be honest and say that I miss my comfortable bed… I can’t wait to be where I can drink the water from the faucet without getting sick… and I long for the days to pass quickly so that I can get back to watching TV when I want (did I mention the other tragedy… I have missed the first few episodes of Downton Abbey thus far?!). 

I know that I am sounding petulant and spoiled in this blog… and perhaps that’s the point.  I do recognize the disparity here.  What I am living with, for only a mere three weeks in total, is the full-time reality for all of the people of Guyana.  And what is more, there are so many who don’t even have the few amenities that I enjoy in the parsonage here at Redeemer Lutheran Church.  This is another lesson for me to absorb… both about the conditions for the people of Guyana, and for myself as I go forward in ministry.  Everyone has gifts to bring to ministry in the church… and while I do have my own measure of those gifts, they do not include mission work like what so many others can do in the name of Jesus Christ. 

So tonight I am saying a special prayer for all those who travel to countries as missionaries to spread the Gospel… I pray for their comfort and their safety.  I pray for the people of Guyana… that the powerful governments of the world might come to their aid and help to improve their infrastructure and bring a better life to their country.  And yes, I will also say a small prayer for myself… for humility and perseverance.  I need to learn these lessons about myself, no matter how much they might stretch the seams of my patience.  And hey, there are only 8 more days left before I am on the plane to come home… there’s hope for me yet!