Emotions

            I went to my weekly meeting as normal, but as I walked back to my room I tried to think what I could put on this blog about it and I was at a loss for words. In fact, I was at a loss for anything that went on during the meeting. Most of it was a blur. I found that my mind was hooked on one particular moment. Skip had asked us if we knew how long it was until we left. Spring break is a common count down for college students and I was aware that it was three weeks away, but something still hit me when I heard Skip announce it. Just hearing the words, “three weeks from this moment we will be at the evening service of the Presbyterian Church in Belize,” sent my body into shock with the injection of foreign emotions.

            I am not sure of how to handle these emotions. Should I send my immune system into overdrive and have them forced back out, or are these emotions a good thing? The big question is what are these emotions? I don’t have a clue to what I am feeling or why. It is a kind of terrified excitement. My initial response is the unfamiliarity of it all. It will be a new place with new people and new things. Mystery can be frightening, but this is not that kind of mystery. This mystery is why I decided to go on this trip. I did not want to go home, and I will get to make a difference in the lives of people I did not now in ways that I might not ever know. This was exciting for me.

            What I am left with for an explanation is the familiar part, church. I am a Christian and I firmly believe in God, but church was something that I seemed to stray away from during my teenage years. I recall the days that I went on a weekly basis and attended youth group, but I do not know what happened to them. They have passed by me. I could blame this on many things, and some excuses might even sound legitimate, but that won’t matter. Reason does not matter, all that matters is it happened. This past summer I started spending Saturday nights at my Dad’s and going to church with him and Denise every Sunday morning. I’m ashamed to admit that it was my first consistent attendance since seventh or eighth grade.

            I somehow managed to forget the church involvement of mission trips. Mission trips are more than good deeds, and that was the cause of my emotions. The part of the emotion that I did not understand was fear and nervousness. I started going to church again because I missed it and wanted to bring back my childhood devotion, but this seemed to be a much bigger step than just attending church. I am glad to take this step, but I feel like I’m blind folded and don’t know what I am about to step into or how to aim myself. I have faith that everything will work out one way or another; it is just a matter of finding out how. My only option is to wait for the fear and nervousness to be defeated and see what condition I’m left in.