May 31st-

My God, it is of my own free will, and with the help of your love, that I want to remain here in the streets with the poor to accomplish your will. I do not want to go back; my community is the poor; their security, mine; their health, my health.

My house is the house of the poor. Not simply the poor but the poorest of the poor.

Of the ones which we do not approach because we fear the dirt and infections.

Of the ones full of sickness and contagion.

Of the ones who cannot pray in churches because of the want of a piece of cloth.

Of the ones unable to eat because they have lost the strength to nourish themselves.

Of the ones unable to cry because they have shed all tears.

Of the ones lying on the street’s pavement knowing they are about to die while all others go by uncaring and uninterested.

Of the ones needing not so much a house of bricks but an understanding heart.

Of the ones not so much in need of food but rather hungry for God’s word.

Of the ones not so much wanting a cover for their nakedness but dignity, purity, justice.

Of the ones rejected, unwanted, unloved, fallen along the way because they, too, are the poorest, the spiritually poorest of the poor, under whose distress, you, my God, disguise yourself, thirsting for my love the same as you do under the bread of the Eucharist.

Teach me how to recognize you in them and totally surrender to you today and every day until the end of my time, when again I will see you face to face in glory. Amen.

– Mother Teresa

There comes a time when you choose where to call home. For me, this is one of the hardest choices I have ever had to make. Home? It should feel natural, right? It should feel secure, constant, strong, peaceful. It should feel ‘right.’ But what happens when you have two places, on the opposite sides of the world, that create in you those feelings of “right?” What if these two places are playing tug-of-war with your heart? What if your soul feels at peace in one and your talents engaged in the other? What if you have people you know and love on both sides?

I’ve made the choice to love deep on this side of the ocean. I’ve made friendships that, I trust, will last a lifetime. I’ve been with ones full of sickness and contagion. I’ve been with a woman unable to nourish herself. I’ve seen the street families. I’ve held the little ones covered in dirt. I’ve sought to let them know that, in my eyes, they are not rejected, unloved, poor, or unwanted. But, rather, they are accepted, loved, rich in Christ, and have a purpose in this world. Have I succeeded every day? No. Have I continued to let this place be home to me? Yes.

Now, I’m sixteen days from leaving this place of home. For the last six months, this place has brought security, consistency, strength, peace. I’ve felt ‘right.’ On June 28th, I head to my other home. The one that first taught me what “home” is. I’m so excited to see the ones I’ve missed for these past months. But, just as I did when I left that home in January to come to this one, I grieve for the ones I’m leaving behind. When you love deep, you grieve deep. When you embrace the community you’re planted in, you feel its absence signficantly. So, as I reintegrate into my American home, I ask for grace as I grieve for the home I left behind (for now). I also ask for listeners willing to know people’s names and their prayers. I ask for you to prepare yourselves for stories that are hard, but so full of hope. I ask that you forgive me when I start speaking to you in a different language ;).  Because I know the character of the people I have on that side, I thank you, in advance, for your intentional grace.

I’m also ecstatic for the opportunity to be stepping into a new position upon my return to Wichita. I have accepted an offer to be a first grade teacher at Gordon Parks Academy in Wichita. I cannot wait to meet these little ones and learn with them, as they learn with me! I desire for my classroom to be a place where they are taught what “home” is. A place full of security, peace, strength, consistency. I’m honored to have the privilege to teach the them math, reading, social studies, and science. But, the biggest lesson of all, which is of the most value, is that they are not rejected, unwanted, or unloved. These ones will teach the generations to come what “home” is. They will teach them that it’s not necessarily a tangible place, but, rather, a place where you are in recognition of your surrender to God.

 

Wichita, I’ll see you soon.

Abby