What else am I gonna do with my life?

In less than six weeks, my intimate relationship with the Africa Mercy will be coming to an end. My bunkmate Meg leaves in less than a week. I have been saying goodbye to many of my friends here over the past few weeks, and it seems that I will continue to do so for the next few. This whole process of everyone leaving has resulted in a lot of discussions about life after Mercy Ships. I would definitely say I am still mentally and emotionally invested in this time and place. As others are preparing to re-enter the "real-world", I am doing my best to apply my new "living in the moment" philosophy.

That being said, I have been reflecting on what it will be like to return to my fast-paced, time-oriented, comparatively complicated world. So many things that play on my mind, emotions, and time in normal life are completely eliminated, simply by living on the ship. Little worries, like why we don't have cheese on a more regular basis and how many times we will have to push start the cab on the way to the beach and whether or not my medication labels will be printed in English or Dutch are relatively minor compared to most of the issues that plague my ever-complex brain at home. I realize that this will take some getting-used-to. I also realize that I will have to relearn proper English. Unfortunately, it seems that the word "small" has completely replaced my need for any other similar word or phrase (like, "a little bit", "sort of", "minor", "kind of", "some", etc) in my vocabulary. This might be a problem in grad school. But, I think the biggest adjustment is one that I really don't want to make.

I feel like it would be far to easy to go home and lose this incredible sense of purpose that I have here. I had spent years before coming here thinking about how all I wanted to do with my life was to come to Africa and take care of orphaned kids. Obviously, over time, that vision became more refined, defined, and less like what you hear ridiculous Miss America contenders say when they are trying to come across as "humanitarian". But, I really do remember the first time I felt like I wanted to do this whole missionary thing. It was actually kind of ironic. Missions were for other people I thought. People needed help on the other side of the world, but so did people in my own community. I would be the one to help the people in my own community.

But then something in my heart changed. I actually remember the time and the place. I was sitting in church about a month before Christmas during my second year of University and we were watching a promotional video for the Christmas Shoe Boxes, organized my Samaritan's Purse. I cried really hard and thought that more than anything I had ever wanted in my life, I wanted to go wherever those people were and work in that hospital. Conveniently, I was in nursing school, and was on the perfect pathway to get there. Life carried on very uneventfully from that time, but from then on, I believed in my heart that my life's purpose was to come and help people in Africa. It wasn't a very dramatic or philosophical purpose. I just knew that there were people out there that needed more help than I could ever imagine and that it was my responsibility to go help them.

I had this idea in my head of what it would be like to hold a baby who had never been held by someone who loved them. Or what it would be like to give medicine to a small child who had worms causing pain in their stomach. Or what it would be like to give food to someone who was hungry. I knew it would be something incredible. I imagined what it would be like to look into their eyes and see thankfulness or joy or hope through the void of hopelessness. I guess I didn't ever realize that it would be indescribable. I don't think I realized how incredibly humbling it would be.

It is a rare occasion when I am without words, but situations like this are difficult to portray. It is hard to be greeted with such wholehearted appreciation when you know that what you are doing is only what God has called you to do. When I know that the only reason I am in the position I am in is because I happened to be born in North America and they happened to be born in Liberia. When I know that I lived a childhood filled with dolls and treats and comfort and love and dance lessons and friends. And they lived a childhood filled with war and poverty and loss. That they have no reason to look at me as some sort of martyr, because I am really doing the least I could be doing after all I have been given. But the things is, even with my heart breaking everytime a baby falls asleep in my arms or a Grandmother says "God bless you" for taking care of her loved one, I still can't get enough. It still is just the most amazing feeling I could ever dream up. I have said this before but there are times when I actually wonder how any moment will ever compare?

Most likely, I will not be a missionary forever. At least for the next few years, I will be a full-time student, and then I really have no idea where my life will go. At this point, I think it is likely that I will live a more "normal" life than I am living right now. Not making any predictions at this point, but the chances that I will get to rock African babies to sleep every night and lead bible studies at orphanages for the rest of my life is slim. I feel that this realization could cause my heart to be discouraged. On some levels, it is less-than-exciting to think about regular old life.

Every night as of late, before we go to bed, it seems that Meg and I end up engaged in a heart-to-heart, analyzing and defining the world according to us. The other night, as we were discussing the various paths she could take once she arrives home she brought up a point that has stuck in my head.

"What else am I gonna do with my life?"

After this, how can I possibly go back to regular life with a regular job in a regular world? In discussing the various options, it was hard to think of anything as seemingly significant as what we are doing now. But as I have put more and more thought into it, I think that she may have hit on something very important.

It is true, I may never again have the opportunity to do something as adventurous or unique as living on a multicultural, hospital-ship off the coast of West Africa. This really is an experience of a lifetime. But, the other options and pathways that my life will follow are, in no way, going to be less purposeful, important, God-centered, or God-oriented. I am going to consciously chose to take the motivation and lessons I have acquired here in this place and bring them to my "regular life". I am going to keep this spirit of purpose, knowing that I can make a difference in individuals' lives. Knowing that there are hurting people out there and that my greatest purpose can be found in serving them. Knowing that hurting people are essentially the same and just as human as the rest of us. Knowing that relationships are the foundation of life. Knowing that investing in others can transform lives. Knowing that no dream is too big. Knowing that "it's a small world afterall". Knowing that a small group of very determined workers can accomplish miracles (or however that quote goes). Knowing that, life, in essence is humorous and joy can be found anywhere. Knowing that making God the absolute center of every decision is crucial for success. Most importantly, the lessons I have learned are, in no way, exclusively to be used here on the ship. Overall, I think that is what I have learned and that is what God has instilled in me through this whole experience. Life is about purpose. My purpose isn't one-dimensional and doesn't end here. Living with purpose doesn't have to be on this ship.

I will be eternally grateful for having this experience and I really do hope that I get to return to Africa someday. But mostly I hope that my spirit of purpose and adventure stays alive well past these few months. I hope that something real and long-lasting radiates from me as I continue on in this journey of life.