Friday, August 8, 2008

Getting right to the point...


Today we made the formal announcement that I am resigning from the Director position in the CASAS program effective the end of August.

My whole self has been so, so tired for months now. The discussions started in February.

And now, while hoping to be experiencing some relief at getting the message out, instead I feel like a traitor. One teacher just passed by my office to say goodbye before the weekend – half jokingly he said “You don´t want to see us anymore, huh?”

And those I worked with the most closely every day in the logistics of groups? – I feel like I owe a further explanation, but I am tongue -tied. Do they question all the trust they put in me? Will they be more closed off with me from here on out? Have I only added one more wound and difficult transition to the long line of director turnover that the program has suffered? I was supposed to come to help make things better. I now say that in leaving I hope to make things better. I feel like in going or in staying I have made things worse.

My Spanish failed to properly convey what I hoped today - I intended to say that I want to serve well. That unfortunately, my gifts don´t fit the role of director. I therefore fear to continue, because I want what is best for the program, the staff, the students. And that personally, seeing myself fail at properly filling the role has been devestating when all I want is the best for staff, students, the program. That in the end it took all I had to give just to do a few things right and well, and that isn´t enough. ThatI believe in CASAS and hope that MCC and SEMILLA are able to identify a non-leadership role that may be a better fit.

At one time, this decision seemed not only like the only one, but also a good one. Now I still feel like it is the only one, but today when the Seminary Rector wanted to pray for me admist the department staff – for my health, for peace in my heart, for whatever comes next, I could hardly stand there. Can we just pray for the program?, I tried to ask. I just felt like such a traitor. Poor Shannon and her hard job. Is that what this is? If that´s it, suck it up!, keep going.

Perhaps it is just my pride that is hurt. Perhaps I want to frame this in a selfless act of courage. That I am thinking of the program only. Leave guilt free.

What next? I don´t know.

I look at my life, my cheery yellow kitchen and green living room, the faces of my community and coworkers, of Karen, Lucy, Ishi and the teachers, of Willi, and DoƱas Juana, Ernestina and Eudelia, at the colorful Guatemalan bills as I exchange them for fresh pineapples, avacados, bananas, tomatoes.

I feel the morning kisses of greeting on the cheek, the damp, cool air of faithful afternoon rains in rainy season, taste the comfortable familiarity of black beans, tamalitos with chipilin and loroco wrapped in a banana leaf. The routine of filtering water, hanging clothes to dry, taking my feet or buses anywhere I go.

I am now becoming a spectator to it all – watching myself go about the daily things. In a strange limbo of : Do I start disconnecting now? Or will something work out that I can stay, but fit in a different role?

There is a song by my one of my cuz Jo´s favorites, Sara Groves. I think Lorraine digs her too. For those who understand biblical references to the Israelites, this may make more sense. It was a good entering song when I first was moving here and the metaphor worked cleanly (i.e. Egypt/Past = Old life in Michigan/fam/friends; Future= Guatemala).

But now ´home´ isn´t such a cleanly explained concept. Now Egypt and the Promised Land are all mixed up - roles, countries, communities, languages, identities...

Here it is...

I don't want to leave here I don't want to stay
It feels like pinching to me, either way
And the places I long for the most
Are the places where I've been
They are calling out to me
Like a long lost friend

It's not about losing faith
It's not about trust
It's all about comfortable
When you move so much
And the place I was wasn't perfect
But I had found a way to live
And it wasn't milk or honey
But then neither is this

chorus:
I've been painting pictures of Egypt
I've been leaving out what it lacks
The future feels so hard
And I wanna go back

But the places that used to fit me
Cannot hold the things I've learned
And those roads were closed off to me
While my back was turned

The past is so tangible I know it by heart
Familiar things are never easy to discard
I was dying for some freedom
But now I hesitate to go
I am caught between the Promise
And the things I know

chorus

If it comes to quick
I may not appreciate it
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?
And if it comes to quick
I may not recognize it
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?


2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Did you do this post in teeny tiny print on purpose? At any rate, I love you enough that I copied and pasted painstakingly so that I could read it.

Oh, my friend, you are wayyyyyyy too hard on yourself. None of this has taken God by surprise, and His plans for you are still perfect--and He knows what's next for you.

And you're right . . . I DO love Sara Groves, and I love love LOVE that song. about sums up my entire life!

I am praying for you . . . I am especially praying that God will give you a tiny glimpse of the ways in which He delights in you . . .

sm said...

thanks for the tip lorraine! and for your painstaking patience...

i think the very tiny print problem is now fixed.

thanks for the nice things you say even when it is probably annoying that i seem chronically sad.