{Failure, Faith, and Tears}

It's almost 5 weeks to the day now since I've left Honduras. I can't quite believe it...these weeks have been a blur of travel, family, friends, moving, and unpacking. It's left little time and energy for me to try to process mentally and emotionally everything that happened and everything that is happening. In some ways, I don't want to do that, even though it's necessary. So this is my attempt, and in this process I'll be baring a good chunk of my soul to the world wide web. In other words, if you don't enjoy emotional voyeurism, go ahead and click right back to facebook, twitter, pinterest, or this (because puppies).

My pat and easy answer when people ask me about Honduras is to say it was really hard, but good. It's difficult for me to go beyond that, when I'm striving to unpack that phrase myself. "Really hard" doesn't even begin to explain it in my opinion. I struggled far more than I was willing or able to admit to myself, much less others. Deep down, I knew there was far more than normal, everyday frustration and discouragement going on, but I didn't want to acknowledge it. Near the end of the year, though, it became undeniable, especially when I happened to stumble across this.

     Personality change? Check. I was not myself in so many ways.

     Agitation? Check. I was moody and irritable, and had trouble sleeping.

     Withdrawal? At times. I usually fought through this though because I knew I needed people, even if I wasn't totally honest with them.

     Hopelessness? Check. It was impossible for me to feel optimistic, and most days ended with feelings of failure, guilt, and shame.

The night in late May/early June when I read that, I remember breaking down, finally acknowledging what I had known for a long time, that I was depressed.

I had suppressed that truth for a long time, for a variety of reasons. I was afraid that to name it would make it more real and powerful. I worried that to admit it was synonymous with admitting weakness, which my perfectionist self can not handle. I didn't want to voice it for fear of making people I love worry more about me than they already were. I stressed about the stigmas that continue to surround mental health illnesses.

In other words, I was filled with so much guilt, shame, and doubt. If I were a good teacher, I should not have had so many failing students. Am I even fit to be a teacher? I was ashamed of my weak selfishness that made the year so much more about me, and hindered me from loving my students and coworkers as I should. I left feeling that ultimately I had done more harm than help to myself and those I was called to serve. Worst was the plaguing thought that if I was a Christian (or at least a "good" one), why was I allowing my circumstances to define and control me so strongly? If I were both a good teacher and Christian, I should be committing to a second year in order to better help this community. ...the introspection has been vicious and endless....

((((On a side note, I can't help but think of the song "Blood Pressure" by Mutemath ("Why can't you be more like your older brother...why can't you do a little more for Jesus...be more, do more...")Also, if you're inclined check out the song "Stay Gold" and "My Silver Lining" by First Aid Kit...their entire album pretty much has helped me process my emotions.))))

So yea, that was a bit of the really hard part. Despite all of that, though, Honduras was also good. Some of you have wondered or asked, directly or indirectly, if I have regretted the choice I made. The answer to that is a firm no. Yet it's messy. Part of the reason it is/was hard is because the hard is easier to name and explain than the good. I'm still waiting, hoping and praying to see the good of my time in Honduras.

Perhaps the good will only ever be the lesson of failure and the reality of my own weakness. Most of my life I feel has been successful in worldly terms--middle class privilege, scholarly success, good social relationships, etc etc. This is the first time I have felt the full weight of failure-- professional failure, emotional failure, spiritual failure.... As a teacher it's easy to talk about the value that can be found in failure, but when it's your own failure it's hard to own up to and seek that value. My inability to sign up for a second year was an acknowledgement of my human weakness and limits. My choice to go was an act of independence, but the entire year showed me just how dependent I am and must be.

Beyond that, I'm not sure of the good. I have to trust and believe that the year was good and will bring about good. I couldn't go on if I didn't. Also,  it would be a denial of my faith in a sovereign God who loves me and who promises to work all things to my good (Rom. 8) and who will make everything beautiful in time (Eccl 3). Either way, just because I can't see the good and beautiful in the year doesn't negate its existence.

{this post focuses more on what was going on while I was over there...see here for what's been going on now that I'm back in the States}