Cities and Change

The swift walking, the sound of traffic, the blaring sirens… ahh, I was definitely in a city. I walked through Toronto with Naomi and simply let my senses take in the sounds and smells of a city. I smiled as I heard a dozen different languages; my heart felt heavy as we walked past the homeless. I really do love cities. They’re busy and crowded and the traffic is awful and they’re dirty and everyone hates city drivers… but I still love cities. I loved watching Naomi navigate through the streets of Toronto, refusing to wait at stoplights for the walk signal, grabbing my hand and forcing me to run even as the hand blinked orange. It was so clear she loved cities… maybe even more than I did.

We were hungry and in search of a Thai restaurant, because she was determined to have me try one of her favorite dishes. We wandered into Chinatown, our hopes high that we’d find a restaurant that sold Thai food. Sure enough, we finally found one. Over dinner I laughed and smiled… cherishing this time with my dear friend whom I hadn’t seen in over a year and a half. Our conversation was sprinkled with memories from Africa… had it really been two and a half years since we had travelled to Uganda with Teen Missions when we met? I laughed, knowing that our friendship had been forged through the most challenging trip of my life and endured because of the bonds that were formed that rough summer when Cami and I met Naomi.

I sometimes still have trouble formulating why Africa was so pivotal in my life… I struggle to articulate what was so difficult about that summer and how it changed me. Reminiscing with Naomi only reminded me that it had changed me and that it was difficult, but again, I was at loss as to exactly how and what had changed. And sometimes, my heart still hurts because of that summer… I find that I still grieve and mourn because of the way that pain shaped my heart…

And when it hurts, I am reminded of Lilia, my dear friend and mentor. I remember crying in her room in the weeks that followed my return from Africa. I was angry and unsure of where my anger was directed. I was disappointed and frustrated. I wanted people to stop asking, “How was Africa?” but more importantly, I wanted to be able to say, “It was so amazing!” But it wasn’t amazing… and Lilia reminded me that missions and ministry weren’t always “amazing.” She sat me down and drew out a spiral on the black board. The center was Africa, frozen in the summer of 2009. The spiral was the imprint of Africa on my life. As I lived my life, I would travel from the center of this spiral, outward. And each time I hit one of the spiral lines, I would mourn and hurt, and I would heal and move on… And each time the spiral lines were farther and farther apart… but they never disappeared altogether.

That summer—summer of 2009—squeezed my heart and stretched me and hurt me and grew me. Melinda, my discipler here in Champaign, reminded me that this is how we ought to live our lives. If it doesn’t change us… if it doesn’t shape us and leave a lasting imprint on our hearts… why do we do it? The things that matter are the things that change us. And those most special people are the ones who make it impossible to be the same again.