Silver Lining

To say I hit rock bottom fast would be an understatement.

In our training, we’re taught about cultural adjustment in terms of the “W-Curve.” In its most basic sense, the W-Curve shows you that adjusting to a new culture is full of highs and lows that come or go in broad waves. You start out in what we affectionately call the “honeymoon phase” – and oh, the honeymoon phase is so sweet! New friends, exciting scents & sounds & sights, a whole year of adventures ahead of you!

When we were presenting funny skits on each of the stages of the W-Curve, newfriend Hannah and I dubbed the second stage as the “Freak-Out Zone.” When should you reach the Freak-Out Zone. Probably March or April...a couple months in when you realize you really are stuck here for a year. Oh how we laughed about the freak-out zone and how miserable and far away it would be.

My expectation (doesn’t life always hinge on those darned expectations?) was that while this huge leap would not be easy, I would certainly continue to see my purpose and be excited about the bigger picture...and just being back on this continent. Coming off of an autumn full of such high highs, I thought I could ride that wave and be able to carry over the tangible fruits of God’s promises into these more difficult times.

But Freak-Out started to knock on my door when I arrived Sunday night. It stayed away, but then followed me to school on Monday. Since then, it has full on tackled me to the point that I feel inches from drowning and moments away from jumping on a plane home.

The most maddening part is that I know God has led me here. I know His fingerprints have been all over every step of this journey. And if He’s led me to this, He will bring me through it. He is constant and His love will not change, even now. I could recite a whole litany of God’s promises...

But this morning, all I had the strength to pray for is that God would remind me why I was here...remind me that He is here, too.

Upon returning from a long afternoon in Oshikango with my two Japanese roommates, we approached the school and could hear music in the distance. As we neared the classrooms, the sweet sounds of singing and dancing rose and fell in the dense Namibian air. We followed the voices to a grade twelve classroom on the far side of the schoolyard. The desks had been pushed to the sides and middle of the room. As we crept in, the loud voices, frantic stepping, and bright colors swept over me. A group of young females was dancing in a snake-like pattern around the room singing beautifully raw Namibian folk and gospel songs. Their enthusiasm was contagious and overwhelming.

I knew immediately. God was showing me why I am here. Music and I have had a rough past two years, but through it all, nothing seems to stir my heart more than raw, soul-filled melodies. Despite being the only oshilumbu (white person) for miles, I was able to be a fly on the wall and simply soak in the sweet serenade.

This doesn’t change the fact that everything I’ve been handed has been the opposite of what I signed up for. Or the fact that adjustment is so much harder than I ever expected. But this silver lining in a progression of the awfulest days has given me the briefest ray of hope that God is still with me, despite the blinding fears.