The One Where I Explain How I Got Here
Welcome to my blog! Oh, come inside out of the rain! It's pouring out there, isn't it?
Please try to step around the scattered-but-important papers for my impending transition to Taiwan, moving boxes, and countless to-do's that are currently occupying my home in Rogers, Arkansas. I'm sitting on the floor in my bedroom, transferring important notes from the old paper planner to the 2017/18 one, acknowledging that I could be lesson-planning for next year rather than looking at cool teaching-technology web courses on Cult of Pedagogy. It's been a whirlwind of a semester, June is beginning, and I realize now that there's a question waiting to be answered publicly:
How on earth did I get here?
The answer is going to take some time, so grab a spot on the couch and let me make you some coffee while we chat.
(By the way, if my cat rubs against your leg, only pet her once. If you pet her twice, she bites.)
I'm flipping back to January of 2017 in my old paper planner. I wrote this on Sunday, January 8th: Holy Spirit SMACKDOWN.
I wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweat with a sort of blind urgency and racing heart. After seeming hours of calming myself back down, I fall back asleep. That morning, I stand by my grandmother (I save them seats every Sunday, they buy me lunch and give me hugs, it's a win-win. Plus I love them.) in the third-to-back row of Fellowship Bible Church in Lowell, Arkansas. As the worship band reaches out to God, I feel a pull in the deepest recesses of my heart. I sense a message rather than hearing it audibly, and I think it makes more sense that the Holy Spirit speak directly into me rather than make a pit stop through my ears. I feel this:
I wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweat with a sort of blind urgency and racing heart. After seeming hours of calming myself back down, I fall back asleep. That morning, I stand by my grandmother (I save them seats every Sunday, they buy me lunch and give me hugs, it's a win-win. Plus I love them.) in the third-to-back row of Fellowship Bible Church in Lowell, Arkansas. As the worship band reaches out to God, I feel a pull in the deepest recesses of my heart. I sense a message rather than hearing it audibly, and I think it makes more sense that the Holy Spirit speak directly into me rather than make a pit stop through my ears. I feel this:
Go teach abroad.
The same urgency from the middle of the night jolts me, but it isn't blind this time. My eyes snap open. What? That doesn't make any sense. Sure, I've had this desire to see the world, and it has only gotten worse with each trip outside of the US (Mission trips to Guatemala and Spain, study abroad in England and Scotland). Sure, I would be done with my Master of Arts in Teaching by May 2017, but why would I teach somewhere outside of Northwest Arkansas? Many teachers from the rest of the state (and country) work to get hired in the "big 4" NWA districts, and I've been blessed to student-teach at two of them.
I grew up in Southwest Arkansas, and I am thankful for my time there, to be sure. However, NWA is an amazing place to live. I would know because I am used to coming here as a vacation! My mom grew up here, and visiting my grandparents in Rogers made being here now feel like a constant holiday. I would also know because I picked the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville for my undergrad and graduate degrees (I just couldn't get enough of calling the Hogs). I love this area, and for now, I hope to teach here someday.
I grew up in Southwest Arkansas, and I am thankful for my time there, to be sure. However, NWA is an amazing place to live. I would know because I am used to coming here as a vacation! My mom grew up here, and visiting my grandparents in Rogers made being here now feel like a constant holiday. I would also know because I picked the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville for my undergrad and graduate degrees (I just couldn't get enough of calling the Hogs). I love this area, and for now, I hope to teach here someday.
And yet...
I barely remember the sermon that day because I am too busy arguing with God. As I leave the service, I brush shoulders with my hometown best friend (who has also moved to Northwest Arkansas), and we start catching up from the days since we talked last. I mention ever-so-casually that "I might go teach abroad somewhere next year," and she comments that it seems I am desperate to move away from her. She reacts better than I expected, but I have a feeling that this tugging in my heart will be met with similar resistance from others, let alone from me. Teach abroad? Where?
I debate with God all day, presenting my best arguments and ignoring the tugging with a healthy dose of distracting Facebook videos. At about 8 o'clock, I give in. Alright, maybe I should just ask. Just research the options.
I email one of my UofA professors. Dr. Chris Goering. He responds with a recommendation to check out the University of Northern Iowa's annual Overseas Teacher Recruitment Fair in February. He sends me the link to the application for the fair, and it's due in 3 days. Gulp. I fly through the application's first stage, and it unlocks the list of the schools that would be attending. I start scrolling through the list: name of school, country where school is located. I browse a few of the websites linked to schools in India, Mexico, Nicaragua, Greece. I start writing down potential schools, trying to picture myself there.
Then I see it. Morrison Christian Academy in Taiwan.
I click on the website (here) and read through the mission statement, the information about the school's campuses, the courses, the students, and I get this overwhelming sense of peace. I can see myself here, I think to myself. Not there, not some place distant both in location and from the purpose in my heart.
Here.
I start filling out the application, but I stall completion to get some sleep. A few days later, I got an email from Morrison's Human Resources Rep, Bonnie.
"Your preliminary application indicated you may be a candidate for a position at one of Morrison Academy's campuses. However, realistically we would be looking at the 18/19 school year since we are so far along in our hiring process...."
My heart sinks. I guess I won't be there this year after all. I continue working on my application to attend the recruitment fair.
DING.
A week later, I get an email from Bonnie again.
"We have had another MS position open up so if you would like to candidate for that position, I would welcome you to do so. I would need to hear from you right away and you would need to get your paperwork in VERY quickly."
My heart thumps hard. I finish the paperwork as quickly as possible, working in between homework for my student teaching and masters program. In the week before the fair, I interview with the Kaohsiung campus' principal, Joe Torgerson, and staff via Skype (An interview at 10pm? Count me in!). It feels good, but I am so rusty with interviewing that I can't tell if it actually goes well or I am just blind with hope. I would interview with Bonnie at the fair, and if I passed, I would interview with the superintendent. However, by the time I leave the interview with Bonnie, I feel not only like I can breathe again but also spiritually encouraged (If my memory serves, I cried in the interview). On top of that, I have a 2-year teaching contract in my hand.
For the next week before the signing deadline, I alternate between sobbing, praying, researching, and talking with my parents. My mother is reasonably hesitant to consent to me signing the contract ("You don't speak Chinese!"), and I won't sign it without her being at peace with the whole thing. My dad is psyched at the idea and harkens back to his 2-year missionary stint to Spain after he graduated college. My sister asks important questions ("Don't you have to pay off your student loans?"), and my friends are equally excited for me and curious about how on earth I made it to this point (friends, this is why I wrote this post).
The thought of signing the contract makes me feel like I'm at the edge of Victoria Falls and about to jump. The thought of not signing the contract makes me feel like I'm walking away from the site I've hiked to see, a wasted opportunity and a squandered adventure.
After I explain this to my mom, along with Forbes Magazine's ranking of Taiwan's safety and high expat-specific safety (see article here), we pray for God to be glorified and to protect me through this journey... and I sign the contract.
Wow.
What a sense of peace, a deep, exhilarating calm. In the months since, I've peppered Bonnie's inbox with logistical questions (Have I said thank you enough yet?), I've emailed my prayer partner and learning coach (what a blessing, Kathy!), and I've asked questions of other staff members about everything from honey to what to expect in my apartment. Through it all, I've felt at peace. Jesus has taken all the work of it all on himself (1 Peter 5:7). In the middle of finishing my masters, student teaching, the Action Research Defense, and my paperwork for Morrison, I've never felt more serenity in a decision for the next phase of life: I think it's called the peace of God, and I'm glad that I don't have to understand it (Philippians 4:7).
So, that's how I got here, preparing my belongings, mind, and heart (oh, did I mention I started dating someone? That's a story for another day) to move to a country that has Dengue fever and spiders that eat birds and monsoon season. (Have I mentioned how beautiful and awe-inspiring Taiwan is? See this vid) Good thing I've got Jesus no matter where I go (Joshua 1:9, Matthew 28:20), or rather, good thing that Jesus has me in his hand.
Good, good thing.
(Taiwan picture from Asiaoptions.org)
I debate with God all day, presenting my best arguments and ignoring the tugging with a healthy dose of distracting Facebook videos. At about 8 o'clock, I give in. Alright, maybe I should just ask. Just research the options.
I email one of my UofA professors. Dr. Chris Goering. He responds with a recommendation to check out the University of Northern Iowa's annual Overseas Teacher Recruitment Fair in February. He sends me the link to the application for the fair, and it's due in 3 days. Gulp. I fly through the application's first stage, and it unlocks the list of the schools that would be attending. I start scrolling through the list: name of school, country where school is located. I browse a few of the websites linked to schools in India, Mexico, Nicaragua, Greece. I start writing down potential schools, trying to picture myself there.
Then I see it. Morrison Christian Academy in Taiwan.
I click on the website (here) and read through the mission statement, the information about the school's campuses, the courses, the students, and I get this overwhelming sense of peace. I can see myself here, I think to myself. Not there, not some place distant both in location and from the purpose in my heart.
Here.
I start filling out the application, but I stall completion to get some sleep. A few days later, I got an email from Morrison's Human Resources Rep, Bonnie.
"Your preliminary application indicated you may be a candidate for a position at one of Morrison Academy's campuses. However, realistically we would be looking at the 18/19 school year since we are so far along in our hiring process...."
My heart sinks. I guess I won't be there this year after all. I continue working on my application to attend the recruitment fair.
DING.
A week later, I get an email from Bonnie again.
"We have had another MS position open up so if you would like to candidate for that position, I would welcome you to do so. I would need to hear from you right away and you would need to get your paperwork in VERY quickly."
My heart thumps hard. I finish the paperwork as quickly as possible, working in between homework for my student teaching and masters program. In the week before the fair, I interview with the Kaohsiung campus' principal, Joe Torgerson, and staff via Skype (An interview at 10pm? Count me in!). It feels good, but I am so rusty with interviewing that I can't tell if it actually goes well or I am just blind with hope. I would interview with Bonnie at the fair, and if I passed, I would interview with the superintendent. However, by the time I leave the interview with Bonnie, I feel not only like I can breathe again but also spiritually encouraged (If my memory serves, I cried in the interview). On top of that, I have a 2-year teaching contract in my hand.
For the next week before the signing deadline, I alternate between sobbing, praying, researching, and talking with my parents. My mother is reasonably hesitant to consent to me signing the contract ("You don't speak Chinese!"), and I won't sign it without her being at peace with the whole thing. My dad is psyched at the idea and harkens back to his 2-year missionary stint to Spain after he graduated college. My sister asks important questions ("Don't you have to pay off your student loans?"), and my friends are equally excited for me and curious about how on earth I made it to this point (friends, this is why I wrote this post).
The thought of signing the contract makes me feel like I'm at the edge of Victoria Falls and about to jump. The thought of not signing the contract makes me feel like I'm walking away from the site I've hiked to see, a wasted opportunity and a squandered adventure.
After I explain this to my mom, along with Forbes Magazine's ranking of Taiwan's safety and high expat-specific safety (see article here), we pray for God to be glorified and to protect me through this journey... and I sign the contract.
Wow.
What a sense of peace, a deep, exhilarating calm. In the months since, I've peppered Bonnie's inbox with logistical questions (Have I said thank you enough yet?), I've emailed my prayer partner and learning coach (what a blessing, Kathy!), and I've asked questions of other staff members about everything from honey to what to expect in my apartment. Through it all, I've felt at peace. Jesus has taken all the work of it all on himself (1 Peter 5:7). In the middle of finishing my masters, student teaching, the Action Research Defense, and my paperwork for Morrison, I've never felt more serenity in a decision for the next phase of life: I think it's called the peace of God, and I'm glad that I don't have to understand it (Philippians 4:7).
So, that's how I got here, preparing my belongings, mind, and heart (oh, did I mention I started dating someone? That's a story for another day) to move to a country that has Dengue fever and spiders that eat birds and monsoon season. (Have I mentioned how beautiful and awe-inspiring Taiwan is? See this vid) Good thing I've got Jesus no matter where I go (Joshua 1:9, Matthew 28:20), or rather, good thing that Jesus has me in his hand.
Good, good thing.
(Taiwan picture from Asiaoptions.org)
Comments
Post a Comment