After work Friday morning I ran home, packed for the weekend and had my roommate drive me to the airport. I was heading to North Webster, Indiana for a reunion with my FYM New Zealand team. I wasn’t really sure what the weekend would look like. We hadn’t seen each other in over a year and even after spending nine months with each other, our lives have gone in different directions since being back in America. While at training camp in Georgia, we labeled ourselves as “THAT team” and so did others. Who knew what the Lord had in store for us over the next few years. Good or bad, our team survived many changes and transitions and each brought something different back home.
Upon coming home, many of us returned to our universities, some returned to their jobs, others got new ones and some went in totally different directions. We are all here this weekend with the exception of two, one is in Indonesia with Youth With A Mission (YWAM). The thing about him though is that he was the last one any of us thought would return to the mission field. The other was the youngest on our team and probably the last we thought would marry, and now she is preparing to get married this fall. It has been interesting returning as a team. We have laughed together, shared pictures and relived memories from our time in New Zealand. Finally people we are able to share our thoughts with, finally people know what it is I am talking about, finally I am surrounded by friends who understand the changes I endured while I was away, finally friends that don’t tell me to shut up after telling yet another story of my time in New Zealand. Finally.
We have spent the weekend watching the ducks swim by, chasing the ducks, playing on the lake, whether by playing water badminton, floating on tubes, using the paddle boat to explore the small islands or playing mad-libs while the rain falls outside the window or using flarp to make others think we are farting. This is my team. We are still “That team.” To me they are the ones that have been there, seeing me for who I really am, allowing me to laugh and not make fun of my laugh, encouraging me in my realization of what the Lord wants for me. By no means were we the perfect team, but we were a family none the less and we come together like we just saw each other yesterday.
Now I sit watching the North Webster ferry float past the lakeside cabin we have invaded for such brief moments of a chance of the community we left at the Atlanta airport just 14 months ago. The thing though, is my life is going to be full of these moments. These trips aren’t merely trips. They aren’t just adventures. They are my life. I am a missionary. Like it or not, I am going to have people coming and going in my life recurrently. I will be opening up and pouring out to people continually. As my coworkers have noticed, “You don’t ever stay put, you just keep going.” My life isn’t in Texas alone. My life is spread amongst all the people that have touched my life and have been touched by mine. And I wouldn’t want it any other way.
