It was my
first day working in the all girls cottage at Tanager Place- a Psychiatric Medical Institute for Children- PMIC. I was fresh out of treatment myself just a few months prior and was ready to come in as a treatment counselor and
save some lives. I was going to love these girls and teach them everything
everyone had taught me, we were going to bond and I was going to walk away
feeling so good about myself because I helped someone. Ummm…yeah, all that….accept
not.
I had all
but 15 minutes with the staff before the girls would walk in from school. Today
was my day to shadow. Get a feel for how things would run, begin to get
acquainted with the girls, become familiar with the
rules/structure/schedule/levels/consequences……well just EVERYTHING.
In less than
an hour we had multiple tantrums. One girl was throwing juice everywhere
because she was pissed due to something that happened at school. Another was
throwing chairs because she didn't want to go to the scheduled recreation and
then lodging herself underneath the couch so no one could get to her. The “juice
thrower” escalated a bit more and began throwing DVD’s at my head because I
tried to talk to her. There was yelling,
cussing, slamming doors, crying, biting, kicking, spitting, hair pulling----there
were 12 girls total that we were trying to manage.
I left work
that night in tears. “What on earth did I sign up for?” “I can’t do this” Total
let-down from when I walked in the doors to start my shift that day.
That was 6
yrs ago and I ended up being there for 5 years.
However, in the beginning, nothing was ever what I expected it to be.
January of
2011 I was in Haiti. A baby boy on the brink of death was placed in our arms.
My team loved him and cared for him and slowly nursed him back to health. I
stayed behind once my team left to help care for him around the clock. He needed
hourly tube feedings. I expected to fall madly, deeply in love with this
boy---and I did. I didn't expect that when I left that his parents would come
to the children’s home and gather him up and travel to the Dominican, cross the
border illegally, without any means to feed him and make sure that he was
remaining stable.
Fast forward
with me to when I resigned from my position to up and move to Uganda for 4
months (last May).
I was scared
to death, but so full of anticipation and excitement of what this next journey
would bring. I expected to feel happy and thankful once I arrived and that I
would feel that I was actually offering something to those that I was serving
and working with. I already had a deep love ingrained in me from my previous
trips to Uganda. But after I left my missions team and traveled up north, where
I was going to spend the next 4 months, darkness covered me. I didn't want to
be there. I wanted to go home. I was tired, dirty, hungry, taking cold showers
and going to bed in fear every night thinking that one of these nights a creepy
crawly was going to shimmy its way through my mosquito net. I PUSHED my way
through those 4 months. Unmet expectations sky rocketed with every passing day.
Now, here I
am in Austin, TX running Legacy House. I often get asked “Is it what you
expected?” To be honest, I didn't have a whole lot of expectations because I wasn't quite sure exactly what was about to happen. But lo and behold you
sure learn quickly that you DO have expectations when all of the sudden they aren't being met. I have learned that when you start thinking “I wasn't expecting to feel this way or for this girl to act this way or (fill in the
blank)” that is a darn good sign that you need to figure out what you WERE
expecting---proof that you already a preconceived idea of what it was going to
look like.
It’s
impossible to not enter into something or walk through your daily life without
expectations. We all have them and we all have unmet expectations. It WILL
happen. The challenge I find myself in right now is asking, “What are you going
to do with these unmet expectations?” Even bigger “What are you going to let
God do with these unmet expectations?”
Today if you
emailed me or picked up the phone to call me and asked, “Hey, is everything
what you expected it to be at Legacy House?” You would get “Hell no!” BUT that doesn't necessarily mean it is bad.
Another key point I am learning right now:
Just because
it is not going as planned or expected does NOT mean that it is BAD. But it
also does not mean that it is good. It is what it is. All the time we feel like
we have to put a label on it.
I am
learning that MY expectations are just that—MINE. Through all the situations
God had me walk through, I had a very clear expectation that I wanted to be met
FOR ME. Ugh—sometimes it makes me sick with how utterly selfish and
self-focused I can be. BUT in each of those periods of my life it was through
the unmet expectations, the brokenness that I felt that turned me to the face
of God. I NEEDED Him. I NEED him NOW.
I am
learning to not bury my head, stomp my feet or cover my ears. Rather—lifting up
my head and falling on my knees. I want to know what HIS expectations are and I
can’t get to that place if I am still consumed with what mine are.
He is
stripping me completely right now. Seriously, to threads.
I didn't expect to already see girls leave, to become so attached, to feel my
depression slowly creep its way back in, to not want to come back to the house after
a day out, to know that this will never feel normal. I didn't expect that the
amount of emotional energy that I would need to exert over and over and over
again would happen over and over and over again. I didn't expect to feel so
alone.
I am not
saying any of this to feel pity. Oh no…I am saying this because I know WE HAVE
ALL BEEN THERE. I am tempted to say that God promises that this will pass….but
now I am not so sure if that is really a promise or just something that I have
always heard. This struggle this year might not pass and I have felt the nudge
of God reminding me of that.
He purposely shakes me up to get me down. Down
on my face. Down on my knees. Down where
I no longer can hold to my expectations anymore….only to lay them down once
again.
I remember
when I returned home from Uganda and was on the job search. Coming off of being in a third-world country
the need for God often felt great. But every-time I come back home to America I
somehow don’t need God anymore.
I prayed a
prayer (a scary prayer) while I waited to see where God wanted me next.
“God,
whatever it is that you have next for me, please let it be something that makes
me need you”
