Leap Year

(disclaimer, this may be a lot of processing in writing for myself that had a point when I started, but is what it is now. Happy Feb 29th!)

I am viewing today as the anniversary of being in-between South Africa and the US. I think this is fitting as Rachel and I left 3 hours before our visas expired on February 28th and arrived in the US the evening of March 1st. Today is February 29. (I had high hopes one of my cousins with Feb due dates would have had their feb due date babies as a leap year baby, and if it weren’t for a few beautiful new additions to the family prior to the 29th maybe I’d be disappointed. Since that is not the case I shall digress into the 29th being a day of reflection)

I do feel this sense of in-between or maybe it’s a sense of being connected to all places. Last night I flew back from a Missionary Roundtable conference in NJ. It seemed fitting that I was at the airport when I finally realized what the date was and received a few texts and e-mails alluding to the subject. And thanks to JetBlue’s screens in the seats, it does kind of feel like an international flight. (Yes somehow last year with all the emotions I had and on a tremendous lack of sleep and hours to fly, I did not sleep. Instead I had way too many movies to watch and be distracted by on in-flight entertainment.)

A fellow mission intern and dear friend finishes her service this week. During the roundtable we were asked what it feels like on our finishing leg as Mission Interns. I had recently been reflecting on these 3 years of service with intense and extreme transitions every year and a half. I think my fellow mission interns and I have grown so much from being stretched and blessed. But it also is a cycle of spending part of everyday to be part of the community you are in and then around month 6-9 you really have gone through the pains of transition. You begin finding people and connections special and unique to the place. And then when we are lucky we begin to find balance between the service, work, “home”, faith, rest, and people. I had reached that point in South Africa. And then once you really notice how good that is you rip yourself away for the domestic placement. And in Florida I have had to go through the process all over again. I am now getting to the point again when everyone asks what’s next.

My friend was reflecting that our identity for the last few years really has been as a young adult missionary and even more specifically as a part of this Mission Intern program. It is the driving factor in our life and though we are multifaceted people it is the main role in life right now. So what happens when that identity changes? How much stays always part of us? Where is the sense of freedom and the sense of loss as that changes?

I have this belief that I am a combination of all the experiences I have had and all of the people I have met. So the past two days have been pretty wonderful with experiences making me feel more connected to all my worlds.

Singing songs in Swahili and being around translators again brought me back to being in Congo and our good friends with the name Kapay who translate not only languages but the whole demeanor of the speaker. And they sing with a joy in God to unite a room of hundreds.

Staying up late into the night to ponder and wrestle with changes and hopes and dreams. To discuss gender roles. Falling asleep in the midst of reflections.

Strategizing for how to equitably facilitate missionary from everywhere being sent everywhere. With discussions of being ‘routers’ and bi-cultural persons and always being learners. And knowing people those descriptions will soon not truly characterize people with parts of many cultures and countries guiding their paths and decisions.

Talking to a South Africa friend here of the streets of Joburg and the accents. And speaking of leaping, shouldn’t I be in dance class in Marshalltown.

And isn’t it amazing the leap you can take in one day. (Or the many leaps I can take between the many thoughts swirling around in my head.)

I may not have described anything I am feeling correctly. But past, present, and future. In all this in-between it is a pleasure to be reminded of all the people that connect me to all these times, all these places, and all these parts of me.

Somehow a year later, the in-between is a little less painful, but everything is still as vibrant.

It is truly an honor to be part of this Mission Intern program. I have no idea what this Leap Year holds and I don’t even know that I can completely describe the last year to you. But I can say I am thankful for it.

Rambling with love,
Hannah

a handwritten letter

I love letter writing. And cards often fall into the same category. I love getting things in the mail and putting a stamp on before sending it to someone.
If you know me well, I have probably tried to get you to write me something. And I love writing back, though to be honest it often takes me longer than I hope. I have one letter in fact I have been waiting to write to a friend all week.

I think I like letters so much, because somehow what you share is different than other forms of communication. It is much more based on what is really going on in your head and is often more intimate and open. I think letter writing is a good practice.

But here is where we take a turn in this post my friends. I just wanted to give you a sense how much emotional attachment can be connected to a letter, to handwriting, to personal thoughts.

And now I will share one of the hardest parts of my job. Last month, with our attorney on leave I had to respond to two handwritten letters. Both were personal and hand written and contained a story. Each letter had family details, and facts, and was written in a way that asked for immediate response.

Both letters were written from detention centers and were from immigrants. I imagine they sent out other letters very similar to the one we received at Justice for Our Neighbors. And the hardest part wasn’t reading the letters. They were clear about the need for assistance from an attorney and I agree. The hardest part is writing the response, and wondering if all the other people that received similar letters respond the same way.

Unfortunately with our resources to work on one of these cases would take our attorney from 30 other cases that month. So I respond to the letter. Because when someone takes the time to write you a hand written letter you really should respond, but also for all of us that work here it is important to us to give honest clear information. It is important that in some small way, even when we can’t help we acknowledge our brother. And so I write the letter with a prayer, always including other resources and organizations for them to contact.

And I know for every letter there have to be so many more we don’t receive and I know I will get a phone call from a spouse of someone else desperate to be reunited with a loved one. Sometimes who was just lead astray by another attorney and somehow got into problems with the immigration system. Sometimes for driving without a valid license. There are lots of ways, and many people’s families don’t know where their loved one is.

So I still love handwritten letters, but these letters continue to make real for me the problem with our system and the rise of immigration detention centers.