I read an incredibly interesting blog post the other day on one of my favorite websites, which is essentially an online community of people serving with different cultures around the world. It's a site another Global Mission Intern serving abroad turned me on to when I first came to Hungary. The piece is from a woman who has served as a missionary with her husband in several places, but most recently Luang Prabang, Laos. She tells us that a change is coming in their lives. They have found a new place to serve and on top of it all they have a new baby on the way. In her life, she says, the packing up, moving out and moving on has become second nature. She describes it as "settling lightly," and her concern is that in the confusion of logistical details she is unable to devote the proper amount of time to saying goodbye - to mourn the loss of a place and the people that have become the setting and characters in one chapter of her history.
It's tough for me to empathize. My only experience so far has been the hellos - the building of relationships and the joy of new, shared memories. At this point I cannot imagine overlooking one minute of this experience, much less jumping forward to the end. But if I think about it, If I had not decided to extend my contract and stay in Budapest for another year, I would be leaving Hungary in less than two months. At the same time, I realized that I've had to say my fair share of goodbyes with my decision to serve here, and what about the goodbyes I've been unable to give? When I separated from my family after the passing of a loved one, how do I say my goodbyes when I'm a world away?
It seems these are impossible to separate. Hellos are not possible without goodbyes and vice versa, right? So I suppose the real question is how do we ensure that each greeting or parting is being cared for in a meaningful way? How do we avoid "settling lightly?"
These questions come to me at a time when I am bracing myself for, and recovering from, what a lot of people may feel is the harder of the two: goodbye. This summer I put my mom on a plane back to Baton Rouge, LA after nearly two weeks together in Budapest. I traveled to Italy, Austria and the Czech Republic to be with friends, only to say goodbye two days later. I became close with 23 wonderful people from around the world at the RCH's Starpoint youth festival, who in reality I may never see again. And to top it all off, it's a time of transition for my office at the RCH. Contracts are coming to an end, new opportunities are cropping up and people that I've been working with everyday for 10 months and whom I've come to love and respect as true friends will no longer be a staple in my daily routine.
It's tough for me to empathize. My only experience so far has been the hellos - the building of relationships and the joy of new, shared memories. At this point I cannot imagine overlooking one minute of this experience, much less jumping forward to the end. But if I think about it, If I had not decided to extend my contract and stay in Budapest for another year, I would be leaving Hungary in less than two months. At the same time, I realized that I've had to say my fair share of goodbyes with my decision to serve here, and what about the goodbyes I've been unable to give? When I separated from my family after the passing of a loved one, how do I say my goodbyes when I'm a world away?
It seems these are impossible to separate. Hellos are not possible without goodbyes and vice versa, right? So I suppose the real question is how do we ensure that each greeting or parting is being cared for in a meaningful way? How do we avoid "settling lightly?"
These questions come to me at a time when I am bracing myself for, and recovering from, what a lot of people may feel is the harder of the two: goodbye. This summer I put my mom on a plane back to Baton Rouge, LA after nearly two weeks together in Budapest. I traveled to Italy, Austria and the Czech Republic to be with friends, only to say goodbye two days later. I became close with 23 wonderful people from around the world at the RCH's Starpoint youth festival, who in reality I may never see again. And to top it all off, it's a time of transition for my office at the RCH. Contracts are coming to an end, new opportunities are cropping up and people that I've been working with everyday for 10 months and whom I've come to love and respect as true friends will no longer be a staple in my daily routine.
My mom and I in Visegrád (believe it or not, this was the end of May)
Just up the river from Budapest in Szentendre
College roommates in Prague!
and Vienna!
GMIs in Florence, Italy! Lindsey serves in Chiapas, Mexico, and you can follow her adventures HERE!
My Hungarians! Kriszti, Orsi and Dóri. One day we'll get a picture with Dia too :D
And, while I realize this is not the end - far from it actually (October 2014!) - nor does this shift in routine definitively denote an abrupt end to the friendships I've made, it does without question mean change - a rocking of the proverbial boat, if you will, of my susceptible Hungarian life.
But since moving to Budapest, I've noticed that my life is no longer measured in hellos and goodbyes, but rather in "szia" (literally pronounced "see ya"). In Hungarian "szia" is used for hello and goodbye, but simultaneously means neither. And as silly as it may seem, this slight change in perspective really helps me cope with the changes I'm facing.
So, what is the difference? To me, the distinction is fundamental. With szia, there are no definite ends or beginnings, there are only continuations. Even now as I'm trying to distinguish up from down and trying to make a new normal, the people I left behind have not left me. They helped form me, and I take them with me wherever I go.
There's no chance of settling lightly with szia because you never say goodbye to those that affect you the most, you continue to journey on together.
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As a bonus, here are some pictures from the RCH's Starpoint youth festival held in July. Believe it or not, I will write a blog post about it at some point...July wasn't soooo long ago, right? And let's be honest, those of you reading this blog probably know me pretty well and totally expect the ridiculous amount of procrastination I'm capable of when it comes to blog posts.
Our home for the week. Villa de Csillagpont
Our amazing international group!
The ecumenical dream team!