It's Been a Year

It’s been a year.

I’m sure it’s been longer, actually, but I know for a fact that there hasn’t been a day within the last 365 when Nepal hasn’t been on my mind.

A year ago today, I talked with Carly from Tiny Hands for the first time. It was more like catching up with a friend than a formal interview.

A year ago today, I began to dare to hope that a summer in Nepal could really happen.

And from there, it’s been a nonstop journey—from finding out that I was chosen to be part of VisionTeam 2015 to hearing that Nepal had been wrecked by a massive 7.8 earthquake. From packing and preparing and praying, to getting on a plane and meeting my teammates. From spending six weeks in Kathmandu, Pokhara, Birgunj to seeing the realities of trafficking and street children and poverty and Eastern religions. From coming home excited for the next season to spending months reeling from the discomfort of post-Nepal life. From remembering to press in to the uncomfortable to being here one year later—it’s been so, so good.

But good is not to say that it hasn’t been hard. Because it’s been the hardest thing that I’ve ever done. It’s been the hardest year to fall in love with a country and a culture and people and then to say goodbye to them. It’s been hard to be wrecked by another way of life. It’s been hard to have my entire worldview radically shifted.

But isn’t that the beauty of going? The beauty of leaving home and going somewhere uncomfortable and telling people about Jesus? I think so, yes.

My summer spent living in Nepal shifted a lot in my mind, in my worldview. A lot of me changed, a big part of me grew up, I did a lot of maturing. I’ve already written about how hard it was to come home, but I don’t think I’ve done a good job of explaining why. I’ve spent the past months saying that “Nepal is so hard,” that “I’m still raw & emotional about it,” that “I don’t know how to process this or how to move forward now.”

I’ve said these vague things while I’ve worked through the hard questions on my own. I never found words (or the strength, honestly) to share or to open up. It was healing for me to be silent about this. It was a sacred time, to spend hours looking through photos, videos, and journals and to let my heart remember again and again.

But even through the season of silence, I’ve known that the stories of the six weeks I spent in Nepal were not going to be silent forever. My time in Nepal was not the end-all. It was not the pinnacle of my life. It wasn’t something I did to satisfy my travel bug, only to return home to my comfortable and cozy life. Those weeks weren’t even meant to be for my benefit only—they were weeks meant to be grown and expanded. They were meant to be a launching point for future ministry. They were meant, mostly, to be shared. And now, I’m ready. I’m ready to tell the many stories of the way that Nepal has molded and shaped and broken and put my heart back together.

Nepal wrecked me. I don’t say that lightly—it did. I was devastated by the possibility of a better world. I have seen things I can’t unsee. I was introduced to a way of life that didn’t revolve around me, one that intentionally made room for others. And I loved it.

“This is life—real and raw and gritty, full of all the things you’d rather not see. And if you are going to change something, you are going to have to enter into the brokenness and experience some of the pain therein. The only escape from this reality is to live only for yourself. And we all know what that gets us: exactly what we already have.”

I’ve gone halfway around the world, and I’ve come back again. I’ve experienced some of that raw and gritty, real life pain. I’ve sat in the midst of brokenness and it’s changed me. And I won’t lie, it’s been hard and it’s been painful. But yet it’s the only thing that ever truly changes me—and that makes it all worth it. That makes it good.

It’s been the most beautiful year—full of Nepal, full of growth and change, but mostly full of Jesus. And isn’t that the best year possible? One where you can look back and see the ways that the Father has taken your hand and led you through soaring joys and darkest sorrows, through stagnant seasons of waiting and through waves of confusion? A year in which you fall deeper in love with Jesus is the best possible year, I daresay.

Over the next few weeks, I’m excited to share about my time in Nepal. It’s been over six months since I’ve been home (already & only?) and through those months, there are certain words that still have power to recall powerful memories & bring me to tears: Sakina. Pashupati. Birgunj. And I can’t wait for you to understand those words, too.

Pashupati temple; even in the midst of thick darkness and despair, there's beauty.

Our kitchen camp in Dhading

Lake Fewa, Pokhara

The village where we spent four days doing earthquake relief work. We cleared out the rubble of that house on the right, making way for rebuilding and renewed hope.

Beauty for Ashes

Birgunj, and that time we accidentally went into India.

Early morning bike rides in Chitin mean seeing sights like this.

This one time we rode elephants in a river. Obviously I'm thrilled.

We were on our way to our first children's home when I spotted this little girl on the sidewalk. She came over to beg for food while her mother watched from the other side of the street. I saw her multiple times during the summer, and each time, my heart broke just a little bit more.