Saying Goodbye

I told my friends months ago that I'd return to the States in the fall, but I was slow to have a countdown. I knew leaving would be hard and I didn't want to rush things. Was I excited about leaving? No. But in a weird sense I knew I shouldn't stay. After returning from Italy, I thought we'd start our youth clubs again but due to my pending departure we chose to postpone it. Though I would have loved to start the clubs, it was nice to have time for me to go door to door to say goodbye to the kids and their families. I had held off as long as possible actually saying goodbye to people because i had a hard time realizing I was actually leaving. My days were full but not demanding. I enjoyed spending more days in ASHA, our charity shop and with many of our volunteers back in school, the work load was heavier. I spent most evenings seeing different friends from this last year. My last week, I had three dinners with Indian neighbors and their families in the community. It felt weird to say goodbye. Once you’ve lived somewhere you get in the habit of thinking you’ll see them “around” or “next week”.



The reality of leaving hit me in waves, periodically rising suddenly out of seemingly mundane circumstances-taking my last bus ride, walking past certain streets, hearing Indian music, working at our charity shop, or simply having breakfast with my Indian family. During my last Sunday night, these waves came in abundance and the “tide” rose leaving me overwhelmed. I didn’t fight or ride the waves, I was knocked over-such was the loving affirmation of having 80 friends gather to say goodbye, shower me with cards and gifts, and tell me what I mean to them. Many of them welcomed me as a strange immigrant, brought me into their homes, and in time shared their doubts and dreams, hopes and fears. A year ago I did not know anyone in London; now I know so many and saw ongoing growth in many friendships up my last day leaving: it was not easy to leave, I will miss them.
I walked through downtown London the next afternoon and wandered through streets and sites from my first visit, four years ago when I first had an inkling about living here. Now I have and what an adventure it has been.

Leaving London

I left London September 23rd, the exact day my visa expired, three days short of a year. I had told my friends in the summer I'd be returning, but I was slow to have a countdown. I knew leaving would be hard and I didn't want to rush things. Was I excited about leaving? No. Why am I leaving? Why did I come in the first place? I came to be equipped and shaped in what I want to do in life-love a city through caring for those in transition. Specifically I came to learn and understand South Asian culture within the British context. Knowing both cultures' beliefs and history was crucial, and demands much more than a year's time. London is a unique place. Its hostility to belief, frustration with the influx of immigrants (especially students) and loss of the classical education is met with having an intriguing history, being the gateway to the western world, and marvelously/tragically being the crossroads of the world. That is all big picture commentary. I wanted to see how it looked on the ground, with specific people, in a specific community, with very real, tough transitions and decisions. It is an experience I will never forget and forever be grateful for.

I came with many considerations: teaching, full time work with a charity, council work, career advising, tutoring but in all of those areas I knew I needed further equipping. I also knew I wanted to know my context before simply jumping in with both feet. I got to know the context well enough to feel confident about staying but the simple truth is that that equipping I was talking about was not available. Plus having an expiring visa limits lingering too long on possibilities. I can definitely see myself returning. When, how, where and with who are questions to sort out in the meantime.

Casting aside those future ambitions for a few weeks in Italy was nice because it brought clarity to why I want to do all these things. I want to find joy in what I do and bring joy to others. Everyone does, we just call this different names: vocation, calling, career, purpose in life, etc. Few people venture into the deeper levels of joy; it is convicting and troublesome because it demands community, it demands something/someone larger than yourself. Ask the burnt out humanitarians, teachers, activists, hippies, whoever pours themself out for the world without others being with them and all of them together learning of the higher order of things (God, ethics, a political party, economics, whatever) and clarifying, refining their role within it. Or ask the indifferent, contentedly lazy or "all-wise", armchair skeptic about the deeper levels of joy and they may try describing it but the listener knows they have never tasted it. At times like these, we see more clearly the difference between knowing something experientially and knowing it as merely as data. Though we might be world's apart, we are similar in wrestling with the grey, the mess, as we seek to regain a sense of wonder and hope in a broken world...My unique experience in London made me be honest about the struggles of life while dwelling on and clinging to the hope that only Jesus gives; relishing His grace