Support Letter Fail

In one of my many attempts at writing a post-internship thank-you letter to my supporters, I ended up with something that's probably way too heavy for that purpose, but I realize it's nearly perfect for this place. Do enjoy.

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I suppose this is the part where most letters would begin with a common greeting in the language of the area I worked in during my internship. That’s a little difficult this time because, while a Portuguese “bon dia/boa tarde/boa noite” would represent the majority of the people I worked with, a greeting in Makua, Emihavani, or even Manyawa might be more apropos. This being a difficult decision, I opted to open with a treatise on greetings.

They say that you should always be prepared to have your expectations torn to shreds when thinking about and engaging in missions. I can’t begin to count the number of times and places I read that in my preparations. Because of that, I have to say my expectations were fully met. I expected my ignorance to be shown. It was. I expected my pride to be spotlighted. It was. I expected to get some confirmation on just how much I love linguistics. I did. I expected to gain insight into what I should study in grad school and where. I did.

I was surprised with how little Portuguese I learned. I was surprised at how much I grew in my relationship with my girlfriend in six weeks. I was surprised at how natural it felt to be in Mozambique, and by how little I experienced in the way of culture shock.

I got to see a lot of Mozambican culture. I saw how friendly, hospitable, genuine, cold, and abrupt Mozambicans can be. I saw some of their wisdom, and a lot of their ignorance (yeah, David!). I saw their care of self and land, and I saw their lack of perfectionism in everything else. In short, I glimpsed the glory and the gore of life in Mozambique.

Not surprisingly, I fell in love with it. I want that missionary life that is so full of love and devotion and frustration and isolation and satisfaction and intercultural worship. I spoke with missionaries both joyful and disenchanted, and I found them to be people. They are not spiritual superheroes; they are men and women who are trying to do what they love. It just so happens that their greatest loves have nothing to do with electricity or safety or comfort.

I want that life. By God's grace, I'm working towards it.