Orientation Part One: In which thoughts get deep and stuff.

The adventure began long before a rainy Monday in San Francisco, but that’s where I’ll begin. What had before been a distant hypothetical finally began to shift into the present as I lugged my suitcases up the sidewalk and into the hotel for study abroad orientation. There was no more preparation to do. No more shopping to squeeze in. No more money to kiss goodbye. Even though orientation still stood between Thailand and me, it still felt like a noticeable difference in this journey of preparation. My three weeks of Christmas break had been punctuated by a different city – sometimes state. It was like someone reset a timer for me to jump to a new place, and the one I most recently came from was a little nook of California called Pacifica. After spending the weekend with one of my dearest friends, I wrapped my arms around her in the parking lot of the hotel, knowing that I was about to leave behind our laughter and encouraging conversations to venture into an endless string of unknowns. My body told me through my churning stomach what I already knew.

But even though I knew I was about to meet strangers, I took comfort in the fact that this friend I was leaving behind had once been a stranger to me too, and as nervous as I was to meet her and the rest of the team going abroad on a trip five years ago, she was now one of the people I consider an absolute blessing.

There are eight girls on our team in Thailand, along with our Student Leader, and five people on a team going to Rwanda. Our directors, Michael and Adele, are a married couple who divide their time between these two countries and the United States. Although this may not be too surprising, the minute details of orientation are not most memorable to me. Instead, I like to remember that weekend as the one in which we spent half an hour waiting in the rain for our bus to arrive and take us deeper into the city. There, I ate my first fully vegan meal (who am I kidding – it was the only remotely vegan meal I’ve ever had) and visited the Asian art museum. Their special exhibit told the story of Rama, a hero in many Southeast Asian cultures. In a form similar to European epics, the deceptively simple story unravels layer after layer of complexity. Accuse me of overanalyzing, but I found myself rubbing against the story’s characters that drew such precise lines between a hero’s success and a person’s morality. I found myself wondering about the stories untold, of the hero’s wife, of the adversary, of the sidekick. What details went untold in order to preserve the reputation of the hero? How often do we just accept the side that’s given to us? Seriously, go check out the story and while you’re at it, question everything you thought you knew. It’s a good pastime.

But really, orientation didn’t last too long before our Thailand team had to pack up and take the shuttle to the airport. Of course, I’m glossing over the fact that I had to say goodbye to my best friend, who was on the team going to Rwanda. While San Francisco brought us together for a couple more days, it made my heart ache knowing that when we said goodbye, we would be departing for two entirely different places. I’ve decided that I don’t like goodbyes, which is why I often just don’t do them. At the same time, I worked to savor the time I had with each member of my family over Christmas (even on Skype Cassie!). I hate goodbyes because remembering mortality does this little thing where it crushes me. Sitting in the airport terminal, I hated that there would never be enough words to convey my love for my mom who had been in the hospital since before the New Year. Go out, spread your wings, they say. And for the most part, I lean into that narrative. But on the cusp of a new adventure that would take me some umpteenth miles away from home (wherever that is), I have to say that I’m not always pleased with where me and my loved ones end up, even if it is what I believe to be God’s will. I think I’m okay admitting that – that it sometimes sucks to love people only to have to tell them that through a phone or FaceTime. But on one of the plane rides, I had to reaffirm to God that I trusted Him with my mom. I had to remember that He has beautiful things for both me in Thailand and my friend in Rwanda. I have to remember that more than I get angry at being out of control. I’ve been thinking recently that part of the trust is the ability to go through those very periods of doubt and frustration – for me, that’s an expression that I trust that God is big enough to handle it.

This has been part one – the part that’s maybe not so glamorous but sure as heck authentic. I’ll try to add a little more excitement to Part Two. I do promise that I’m having an amazing time.

I would apologize for the tone this post takes, but I did warn y’all in the name of this blog. Welcome to the deep end of my thoughts.