I Have A Question

Do I really feel called? It may surprise some of you to know I do not feel called to Japan. In fact, I lived a majority of my life without a calling. Throughout college I struggled as I watched my fellow classmates fulfill their lifelong dream, their "calling" if you will, one class at a time. I was taking one class at a time alright, but I didn't know what for. You may even think my sudden switch in majors was a sign that my calling had been made known. Not exactly. To be honest I can't even remember what sparked my switch in potential careers. A couple of discussions, one meeting with a professor, and a potential trip overseas and I was signing papers stating my intention was to study Intercultural Studies. No calling, no passionate cries or sudden epiphanies. Even throughout my classes I felt guilty that I  didn't have the same "I heard about these people who've never heard the gospel so I'm going to tell them" kind of experience. I enjoyed studying other cultures, I felt peace in switching, but I felt like a fraud. Every textbook and case study was one more reminder that I was lacking in the purpose department. I had no people group, no special cause, no country that my heart broke for or that even began to align with this non descript heart God had given me. 

I am ashamed to say, the closer graduation came, the more I prayed for a husband who would have a calling on his life and thereby spare me the shame and embarrassment of graduating without one. Cap and gown were donned, pictures were taken, and no such missionary knight arrived. So, I started looking back on my life trying to find those fire moments; the times my heart came alive, my gifts were poured out, and God's smile that He reserves for moments when we finally get the idea were most visible. 

I realized then the startling truth that my calling was for those called. I wanted to minister to those ministering. Almost sounds like a cop out I know, but let me explain. During those formative final years of college I went on the ICS trip required for my major (you know, the one that made switching my major so attractive). So, on to my first international flight I embarked with14-15 other team members. 3 countries later I realized my reactions where not what I thought they would be. While the sufferings, joys, smiles, and struggles of Africans, Romanians, and Dutch reached my heart and will forever be in my mind, I couldn't take my eyes off of my team and those we met ministering in each country. 

This became especially clear to me as we walked down red-lighted streets in Amsterdam and learned all the statistics and facts associated with the ministries there as well as what daily life looked like for those ministering. One particular evening as we sat listening to stories and struggles of Shelter workers, I saw one of my teammates walk over to the window and sit staring across the channels of water at the red-lighted windows watching as old and young men lined up for their chance to go in and close the red curtain behind them. After awhile someone asked her if she was alright? Did she want to come back and sit down? She simply replied, "I just want to be sure she's alright." She couldn't do anything for those girls in the window, but her heart was so heavy for them she just wanted to be sure they were alright. 

That's always stayed with me not only because of my friend's heart for those suffering, but because that was the burden I felt for the other side who were in ministry. They were there to watch and make sure those girls were ok, to do everything they could to help them. But as I looked around I realized there was no one there doing the same for the workers. I began to really look into their faces and while I saw God sustaining faith and purpose, I also saw dark circles and lines. How long would they last? 1 year? Maybe 5? 

Years later this all came back to me as my purpose. There I was post college, husbandless I might remind you, with no idea what I was trained for let alone passionate about. Oh, how I wish it all came to me as a miraculous moment. I'd like to picture myself under some large oak with a sundress on simply dozing with my ESV Bible in my lap when suddenly God's voice booms telling me the specifics for my calling in life. Up I would spring, and with tears of joy streaming down my face I would run home eager to begin my preparations for my divine purpose. Ha ha. No such luck. One minimum wage job and two office positions later I found myself looking back at my life with a goofy realization of what was obvious; my passions, my gifts, and my life experiences pointed to ministering to Missionaries.

It would take more schooling, research, and Lord help us all paying off more loans than humanly possible. Now, here I am in Japan with a good job, friends surrounding me, and an amazing support base at home all of which I truly do not deserve. Here's my point, (the word"finally" is probably running across your mind)  I am a naive, pompous, shamefully self-entitled follower of Christ. Today I began listening to an audio book which I had forgotten I even had. For months leading up to this Japan adventure I began wondering how I could live my life passionately. So, I began the book "Sun Stand Still" by Steven Furtick. Keep in mind, it's been months since I've listened to this and had stopped listening mid page. The very first words I hear today are about having a God-sized vision and purpose without an entitled mindset of comfort; to realize the sacrifice already given and to let that be the standard set for your sacrifice. Makes my pains, sniffles, and allergic reactions a little less of a deal breaker for this calling. While I'm not called to Japan specifically, I know God wants me here: to learn, to minister, to cry, to struggle, to pay off some loans, and probably a lot more I don't even realize yet.

Earlier Today

I'm sitting in Starbucks sipping my Christmas themed cup of holiday cheer listening to an eclectic mix of Christmas music. I shouldn't be surprised. Christmas is only 2 months away. I look forward to the newness of spending a holiday in a place with different traditions, but I dread the pain; pain of homesickness, pain of causing my parents to spend the holidays alone.

I know I haven't written in awhile. It's not that I've been slacking on processing the feelings and culture shocks. It's been busy with Halloween parties, children with sniffles, and daily pushing myself to do more on my own. I don't get many opportunities to sit and think. Usually I'm reminding kids to speak in English, not push their classmate, or use proper English structure (most of them still leave key words out of sentences like, "Lydia. Yuki, hit...ow...here"). Let's face it, I also use escape as an excuse to not process. For the past year I learned how to answer my friend's and roommate's question of, "Heart Check, how are you?" Now I have to learn to ask and answer my own question. I'm failing pretty badly right now. I usually don't know something is wrong until my body tells me in random tears or an upset stomach. Part of the learning process I guess. We'll see how it goes once I move into an apartment by myself this month.

I'm also realizing more and more how to have eyes connected to a broken heart. Eyes on their own will see a train of people nodding their heads in time with the jostling tracks or spacing out as they listen to their music and see only fellow commuters with no backstories who are easily glazed over. Eyes connected with a broken heart will see and feel; feel loneliness, feel curiosity, and feel some sadness. Those eyes and heart will also being interested in the person, not just the statistic. But how does one invest in a long-term culture with a short-term future in front of them? Ah, the age old Lydia question. I don't know, but I have begun to realize how much I rely on those before me. I heard once about the analogy of a seed in reference to the Christin witness: one person may plant a seed, the next water, the next cultivate, but there is no guarantee that they will see the outcomes of their work. I don't know where I am in the planting process with people, but chances are I am 2nd or 3rd in the work line. How's that for processing for you? 

My Lists

The ups and downs continue. In my mind is the unofficial list of victories and frustrations that make up my day. As each event passes I mentally shelve it where it belongs; Shopping for butter on my own, victory. Trying to refill a train pass, frustration. Mingling with more than just those with the last name Dugan (who have been more of a blessing than I think I can comprehend right now), victory. Spending 750 yen on train fares only to find the school is closed, good surprise but still frustrating. One doesn't particularly fill a hole that the other cannot. Each one makes up my day and I wouldn't trade them for anything.


But it's on days like today when the house is quiet, the rain is falling on leaves I still can't name, that I begin to want the release that certain emotions can bring. Not the kind that you can explain away by something you ate or because you need chocolate, but the real release of something bottled up and the comfort that comes not only with the expression of it, but the support of someone who sees it. Moments like this, silent house and rain drop moments, reminds me of the blessing of what was left behind; the blessing of people who know you so well that if you stepped outside your door with a certain look on your face you know the question would come, "Are you ok?" The real blessing comes from those who keep digging even after the initial, "I'm fine" escapes your lips. Sometimes, that's the only way certain emotions can find release, when someone asks you for it. I still wouldn't trade this time for anything, but man do I miss that release.