It was May of 1989. I was 12 years old, and my family was getting ready to leave the country where I had spent most of my childhood.
We were leaving Liberia to go back to California for a year-long home assignment. We packed up our house and put all our personal belongings into the spare room. Another family would stay there for the year we were gone.
The plan was that we would return in the summer of 1990, and would live in Liberia for my four years of high school.
But during that year we were gone, a civil war broke out in Liberia. It got worse. And worse.
And finally it got so bad, that all the missionary women and children were evacuated. Then the men were evacuated. The compound where I grew up was bombed. Many Liberian friends were killed. We never returned. My family was re-assigned to Ethiopia.
We lost everything. Everything we owned was in Liberia, and it was all looted. I lost my sixth grade journal, the painting my grandmother made me, and my childhood treasures. More significantly, I lost my home country, my identity, my innocence.
I never got to say good-bye, either to the country or the people I loved. Liberia haunts my dreams; it remains an unfinished part of my life to this day.
Now, it’s May of 2013. I am all grown up now, and our family is getting ready to leave the country where we’ve spent 10 years. We are leaving Tanzania to go back to California for a year-long home assignment. I am packing up our house and putting all our personal belongings into a spare room. Another family will stay in this house for the year we are gone.
And I must admit; I am anxious. The feelings are too eerily familiar to what I experienced as a child–packing up, leaving everything behind, assuming I will return. So I find myself worrying that the same thing is going to happen again this time….that I will lose everything.
It’s a mostly irrational fear. Tanzania is a far more stable country than Liberia was in 1989. But the truth is, you never really know what’s going to happen in Africa.
If there is one thing this life has taught me, it’s that I must hold loosely to everything. Everything. I can’t put down roots anywhere; I will never find stability. I will never grow old in one house. I may someday have to evacuate with the clothes on my back. Or, I may just get robbed blind.
But it’s okay. Because it reminds me that I shouldn’t love this life too tightly anyway. This life is not all there is, and it’s definitely not worth fretting over.
Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you get neither. C. S. Lewis
Laurelcita
This comment has been removed by the author.
Laurelcita
Oh Amy, thank you for sharing this! It touched my heart today as I think about moving back to California in less than a month… I'm looking forward to reconnecting with you!
La Rodriga
Amy, I am Alyssa's friend from many years ago. That is how I started reading your blog.
Anyhow, I appreciate what you have to say about stability in this life. We grasp for it, but we'll never find it. I also left a country and my belongings and never returned to it, so I really relate to your post.
Too bad we just moved out of Socal or we could connect when you are on furlough 🙂
Anonymous
Yes, we must remember we are not of this world.
Jon
As missionaries in Togo, West Africa ourselves, we can relate to what you have written. Praying that you have a good year back in the States and many more years of ministering on this most needy continent.
Anonymous
I was an MK from Ecuador. When I graduated from high school and came to the US all of my earthly possessions fit into two footlockers. When I got to the US we shipped the footlockers by bus to my final destination. I never saw them again! My husband and I have been missionaries for 33 years and God continues to teach us that life is more than "things."
Lou Ann Keiser
My family has dear friends who were in Liberia for many, many years. I remember thinking it was strange when she heated water for tea and then drank it without any tea in it. That's all they had when they were in Liberia, just water, and thankful for that. Many, many people were killed. Many lost everything. Some, like our friends, were marched out with only the clothes on their backs. I really believe we have no comprehension of this in most places in the world. And, we are way too prone to take for granted the small things, like a cup of tea.
jani
We were there in 1990… evacuated and came back. Moved to your compound. Evacuated and came back. Evacuated and called to see how things were going and spoke to our personal looters… finally lost everything.
This world is not our home. We only lost 'stuff'. I understand your fear. We can only trust God. He alone knows the road ahead.
CBC Portugal Missions
I clicked through from Challies.com today. Thanks for sharing your story. I very little of Africa and her struggles, having only a few Angolans or people from St. Thomas in our church over here, but I can identify with your anxiety at leaving "your" country for a second time. We have only returned to the States from Portugal for 3 months over the last 5+ years, but it only took about 4 weeks in the States before I was ready to go back to Portugal. Being torn between two cultures is never easy. May the Lord give much grace to you and your family.
http://cbcpm.net
Amanda
Love the perspective reminder–and the Lewis quote (which I will definitely need to copy and paste)!
Amy Medina
Love the comments from all over the world. thanks for reading!