The "G" Word

Saying goodbye is something I have never liked doing.

In fact, I more than don’t like it: I’m completely opposed to it.

I used to say goodbye to people and places in my life, and every time, no matter how hard I would try not to, I get all worked up about it. Because when one says goodbye, it feels like there is a finality to it that just makes me uncomfortable.

So I don’t say goodbye anymore. And so far, this has worked out well for me. I bid people farewell, and say things like, “until we meet again,” but I don’t say goodbye.

I can’t, really, because it either hurts too much or feels like a lie, as I have a hard time believing in the finality that I unintentionally attach to the word.

Because on more than one occasion, I have bid someone “goodbye” believing it was likely we would never meet again. Friends who live overseas are sad but realistic examples of this. And yet, here I am in South Africa, living with a family that has become my own, proving my point precisely: when I left South Africa for the first time in August 2007, I did not believe I would ever return. I figured I would never see them again.

But then: God certainly does have a sense of humor, and here I am.

And so, as I prepare myself - my whole self - for a parting of ways when I return to the USA in a few weeks’ time, I am not preparing myself for saying goodbye. This time, I believe we will meet again, whether it is in person or in spirit, or through email or photos or perhaps through my dreams when I miss this wonderful place so much. And so, for all of these reasons, I am searching for ways not to say goodbye, but to say “thank you” for all this country - her places, and most importantly her people - have offered me.

Surprises

The one thing that I stressed about or perhaps even least anticipated during my time here in Plumstead was the preaching. For the first time in my life, I was asked to preach at the church/in the circuit regularly, slowly moving from once the first month into every two weeks and finally every week: including Christmas Day and Watch Night services.

Where I come from the US (or more specifically the UMC), you don’t preach often unless you’ve been ordained. So while I did learn a bit about preaching while in Seminary, I haven’t had a lot of opportunity to practice.

Well, here I am, and here is the good news: I survived. Better news? I LOVED it! (shhh!)

As it turns out, this big, scary, exciting opportunity to preach and lead worship regularly, is something that I love to do! I cannot begin to describe to you how great it is to feel affirmed in this huge piece of my calling into ministry.

The truth is, I was intimidated and nervous and perhaps even anxious about preaching (enough that I actively avoided opportunities to preach in the past). Plumstead changed this only because there was a need that I could help to meet: and how does one say no to that? Yet what started as a need led me to discover that the more I was preaching, the less it felt like a “task” - and the more it has begun to feel like a “calling.”

Just as I’ve begun to fall into routine and realize the joy I receive from this type of ministry, I came to another realization:

This morning was my last Sunday preaching at Plumstead Methodist Church. and I don’t know how long it might be until I’m in a post that allows me to preach regularly again.

There are many, many ways my time in Plumstead has been a blessing to me. Today, I am grateful for this opportunity - and this revelation.

So though I was not ready to say goodbye to you today when you surprised me with a parting gift, to you, Plumstead Methodist Church, I say: Thank you.

Leaving

I feel like I finally have a routine. No, a rhythm. Like all is well and good in the world. I’m loving my work, the people I live, work, and serve with. I’ve grown in leaps and bounds and its nice to see some of the painful process of stretching, finally pay off.

And now. Now that it finally feels like I am in the right place at the right time with the right people. Right when it feels like that: it is time to start preparing to leave. I am trying not to count days or weeks, but its hard, especially knowing that tomorrow marks 5 weeks until my departure.

I’m not ready to leave, that much is certain. And yet, as I read through the Gospel stories set before us for Epiphany, I am reminded that when we are called - when we are asked to “follow” or “come” or “believe” - we are not asked to do so on our own time, in our own convenience, or in our comfortable spaces.

We are not called to come at our leisurely, comfortable paces, but “immediately,” as the disciples did when Jesus first called them.

So I must also acknowledge: our God who called me to South Africa, is now calling me home. I still do not know what lies ahead of me. and I have no idea where my next placement will be or what I’ll be doing.

But I trust.

It will not be easy. I know that wherever I end up, it will take me a while to find my rhythm again, and to make it feel like home. And yet I also know, deep down inside, that though I do not think I’m ready (or want) to leave, it is right.

And though it is not easy, I must trust in that knowledge. For if there is one thing I have learned or been affirmed in over this past year, it is this: to always trust my God-given instinct: even when it is not easy or comfortable or “safe.”

Right now that instinct is reminding me of my call and commitment to return to the US. To the US where another adventure of another unpredictable 18 months awaits me…

But until then, I shall remain here. Taking in every moment of joy, every breath of the fresh ocean breeze, every extra view of the extraordinary Table Mountain.

Today, I am happy to be where I am. And so, rather than focus on where I will be, today I choose to acknowledge but not focus on the fact that I am leaving.

Today, I choose to find joy in my growing gratitude for being here, and being able to just be.

Congratulations

I’m at that place in life where lots of my friends are either getting married, or are already married and having children. A very exciting time.

Today, my dear friend Emily has exchanged vows with the love of her life, Michael.

I wish with all of my heart I could be there to help them celebrate. To see in person the smile that I know only Michael can bring to Emily’s face. To share in the joy they will exude today as they make official their pledge to share their lives with one another: with the one person who makes the other happier than any of us have ever seen them.

I could not be happier for you, Michael and Emily. And today, I say, with all of my heart and from across an ocean: Congratulations Michael and Emily! I love you!

Holiday

Growing up, we didn’t go on holidays out of town. Instead, we would spend summer weekends at the local lake, or my Mom would take us to the zoo. Trust me: that was holiday enough as that 90 minute drive (once 3+ hours because she got lost) was plenty of time for my poor mother and her 4 squabbling children.

So, with one exception of a road trip to Minneapolis with 8 of us piled in a van, I didn’t grow up going on family holidays.

Now: fast forward to my present life. I live with a family that has taken me in as one of their own. As Pete was moving to Pietermaritzburg, a road trip was in order to take a few things there, including his motor bike and the truck. So: roof tents in order, back packed with amazing precision by Jess, and into the bakkie 5 of us went, with poor Pete struggling to keep awake as we slowly made our way from one side of South Africa, to the other.

It has been an adventure learning to fall into the natural rhythm of the family’s holiday “routines” - if you can call them that. Their “routine” basically includes plentiful coffee (and thus toilet) breaks and stopping off for petrol or to take photos or to see unique shops or anything else that is felt like in the morning.

As long as you understand three things, life will be grand when on holiday with the Grassows:

Visiting and drinking freshly roasted Terbodore
Coffee was definitely a highlight!

    1. Holiday begins the moment you leave the driveway.
    2. Coffee is important and should be consumed regularly.
    3. Nothing and no one moves faster than a leisurely pace.

Needless to say, I’m having a great time!

Update: Part 2

A little late, perhaps, but for those of you who do not already know, I wish to share some good news! I have received the lab results back following my surgery, and all is now well and clear, as I have been deemed “cancer-free!”

There will be steps to follow such as monitoring to make sure if it does resurface, we can again catch it early. However, since I am leaving South Africa soon and this will be an ongoing process, I have decided this will wait until I return to the USA in March.

Thank you to all for the love, support, encouragement and prayers! I’m calling this an early Christmas gift. :)

Holiday

Today is a public holiday here in South Africa, which to me sounds like an invitation to just “be.” I've had lots of necessary time to rest lately, and now I think my body is transitioning from needing this rest into just really liking the rest and extra sleep, even if I don't need it.

But today, I don’t mind.

So as I write this (on my iPod), I'm lying on my bed with all the windows around me open. Light music is playing in the background. Fresh, cool air is pouring in: I wonder if it's going to rain? If not today then likely tomorrow. I look up and see purple: my mosquito net is untidily swept behind me, not serving it's purpose, of course, but then again on a carefree day like today, who cares?

There is work I could or probably should be doing, but instead, I am doing this: "work" I believe to be good for my soul. It's been a hectic couple of weeks and it's nice to have peace, quiet and rest amidst a day when I'm finally feeling alright. I'm now only waiting on peace of mind that I hope will come with lab results on Monday. ... But that's not today. For today, or at least for this morning, I'm on holiday…

Update

It has been a while since I’ve updated, and much has happened.

I would like to begin where my last post left off: I am thankful for the many people who read my posts here, and (whether they read them or not) for the countless people all over the world who pray for me.

The past two weeks have been a bit of a roller-coaster. In short, what began as a routine procedure to have a mole removed, turned out to not be so “routine.”

In fact, when I saw the dermatologist, he told me he wasn’t sure it was a mole at all, but rather a skin growth that wasn’t anything to be concerned about. But at my request, he cut it out just to “be safe,” as it was irritating me. This may have been the best decision of my life.

I left with a promise that the results would be phoned to me within about a week. Two days later, I got that phone call that everyone dreads, “Ms. Tyler, the doctor would like to see you as soon as possible. Could you come in within the next hour, or first thing in the morning?”

As I was only a couple of blocks away, I canceled my other appointment for the afternoon and went straight there; the last thing I needed was to worry about such an appointment until the next morning! Unfortunately, the doctor presented me with the very news I dreaded most: the mole he removed was malignant; I had melanoma. The verb here is important, though: “had.” We caught it very, very early, and due to the size, depth, rate of growth, etc., they were mostly sure it had all, already been removed.

As I took in the news, the doctor took the liberty of making an appointment for me: I needed to see a surgeon immediately to have a larger area excised as a precautionary measure: to do so is the only way we can be sure it had all been removed. Because the growth was on my face (right temple), I would be going to a plastic surgeon. Hopefully, this would be the best way to reduce scaring.

I met with the surgeon 5 days later, and watched panic move across his face as he read my lab results as sent by the referring doctor. With a great calm and incredible confidence, he was stern but clear: this could not wait. He checked his schedule and seemed to rearrange a few things to work it out: he would operate the next day.

The operation was a bit bigger than anticipated. The doctor cut out an area just over an inch in diameter and 7mm deep (I didn’t know there was that much skin/tissue in that area!). I was awake for the whole procedure and would be lying if I told you it were pleasant, but it certainly could have been worse. 2 hours and about 50 stitches (internal and external) later, I emerged with a sideways “V”-shaped battle wound covered in layers of bandages wrapped all the way around my head.

4 days later, and I’m feeling worlds better. We’ve removed the giant bandages (now just taping over the sutures), and the doctor is very, very pleased with how it is healing. Amidst celebrations of good healing comes a celebration that I have maintained movement on the right side of my face, which was questionable because he had to cut through areas with critical nerves, leaving a chance I’d lose movement on the right side of my face.

I’m still battling exhaustion from all I’ve undergone in the past couple of weeks (did I mention we moved in the middle of this?), but as my headache gets lighter and the swelling goes down, I’m feeling better by the day.

Later this week I should be able to get the stitches taken out, at which time the lab results should also be back. I’m praying for good news and that this part of the journey has come to an end here. Then, post-holidays, I will move forward with plans to have all my moles mapped and skin evaluated, as if the melanoma chooses to return, I want to catch it as early then as I did this time.