True Thoughts of an MK ("Missionary Kid")

As many of you know, I myself am an MK from the country of Chile. And yes, let's admit it, MK's are a different (but very fun!) breed! We are also unique individuals who feel our joys and sorrows deeply, and many of us have experienced more changes (and goodbyes) by the time we graduate from high school than some people experience in a lifetime.

The following post is shared by permission from an MK named Bethany who recently graduated from my high school in Chile and returned to the States for college. I hope you will read her thoughts and catch a glimpse of the true heart of a missionary kid, leaving home and starting a new chapter of life on her own.

"I arrived at the John Wayne Airport (hooray for missing the madness of LAX) in Santa Ana California on July 24th. On Sunday a group of people came to the Santiago airport to see me off. As I expected, it just didn't feel real. I didn't even shed a tear. I wanted to so badly. I wanted to cry my eyes out as I said goodbye to my dad, Brittany, my senior classmates, and other friends, but I just couldn't. I felt numb and emotionally dead. It seems as if this reaction is burned into my subconscious. This has been my life since I was three years old--change after change, goodbye after goodbye. My heart has put up a wall that is seldom overthrown. As I sat waiting to board the plane I wondered what my friends had been thinking when I said goodbye. Did I come off as cold-hearted? Did it appear to others as though leaving Chile was no great challenge for me? But I had to be content in this: I know my heart, God knows my heart, and those closest to me know that I love them. That is enough, I suppose.

A breaking point did come, however, that evening. There's something heartrending about when the plane leaves the ground. At first, the nose points its way towards the sky and one knows that the dreaded time has come. Half of the carrier is airborne, plotting its way to a foreign destination, while the hind wheels stay anchored to the present ground. And as that despised craft completely left the Chilean ground, my heart broke. The physical strings that tied Chile to my heart snapped in a most violent way. It was the hardest departure of my life; but something tells me: there are even harder ones to come. The bittersweet adventures of this missionary kid haven't come to end.

...

I am now in the great nation of the United States of America--the land of fast food, freeways, vanity, and materialism. I sometimes want to flee my mega-church and return to the open-air thatched roof churches in Peru. I want to avoid the grand campus of APU and go home to my beloved SCA. I want to jump out of every Californian car and take the Chilean micro once more. I miss the simple things. Admitting this is hard but sometimes, I hate this country, the very country that I missed so much while in Chile.

A part of me wants to be bitter at every ignorant and spoiled American. But then I remind myself: I would have been one of them if God had not planned otherwise. It seems that knowledge, experience, and joy must always come at a price. For me, that price has been saying goodbye to the places and people that I come to love. But it has been worth it in so many ways. The journey has been remarkable. But it would be foolish of me to think that it is over. I must go against my stubborn will and adjust. I must allow myself to love this country, this state, once more. I have to take one second at a time--inhaling and exhaling, breathing every moment in, and not suffocating myself from what is to come.

I wish that this horrid beginning stage was over--the stage of discomfort, confusion, and tears. But it's a necessary part of the transition. I just need to remind myself: Inhale. Exhale. Breathe.

I'm only 17 and have just left my home; I will soon be "parentless". College and life in general are going to be great challenges. I'm just a kid, one who much is expected from. But I know I'm going to screw up. I'm not perfect. I'm going to feel lost and scared. And there goes my pride once more.

It seems that life is a series of moments of brokenness and restoration. And I'm longing to be restored."