On leaving my work in Asia behind

I struggle with the life I've left behind in Asia -- both in Bangkok and Seoul.  Naturally I miss many culture-specific things that I grew accustomed to.

 But this is not about reverse culture shock.  There will be other posts lamenting that ongoing struggle.  This is about guilt.  No matter how long I've been away, I cannot help but feel like somehow I quit. Somehow I gave up the race before crossing the finish line.  Somehow I didn't finish what I started.  Somehow. . . I lost.

Quitting carries such a negative connotation.  It implies giving up.  And giving up implies failure.  I don't want to fail at something I feel God has gifted me in.  I don't want to admit that everything I did overseas -- the countless hours invested in the classroom, in students' lives, in the lives of my coworkers -- was all for nothing.

But it wasn't for nothing.

Not a moment of it was.  I cherish the relationships I built with people during my time in Thailand and Korea.  I connect to places by the people I met there, and boy did God bless me with relationships!  Even the times I spent sitting in a classroom in a darkened hall trying to grade, prepare, lesson plan, set up, and sometimes even cry, taught me how to overcome obstacles and rise above challenges.  Sure, the work was difficult.  There was often too much for one day to handle.  But these were growing years, stretching years.  Interactions with friends and colleagues taught me much about myself.  I've had to eat humble pie more times than I can count.  I've had to learn to laugh at myself, and be gentle as I laughed at/with others.  I only pray these lessons stay with me as I drift through life.

But on days like today, I question my decision to leave Asia and teaching behind.  I doubt my decision to return to America.  I wonder if I gave up a good -- great, incredible, secure -- thing with people who have blessed my life immeasurably.  My gut clenches every time I think about sunny days in Asia: lounging on Thailand beaches, roaming the streets of Seoul, exploring incredible nature, laughing at yet another situation where foreigners collide with everyday Asian culture.  Not to mention gathering with friends every chance we got, creating music together, discovering another restaurant, sharing our struggles as believers and foreigners, connecting with students and sharing real life with them in ways I've never done in America.  And still my gut clenches because all the things I struggled and cried over don't hurt nearly as much as the things I rejoiced in now that I left them behind.  If I make a list of my blessings, they would far outweigh the difficulties, as insurmountable as they seemed at the time.

Oddly, the job that brought me to Asia is the one currently sustaining me.  I haven't quit teaching cold turkey.  I substitute teach middle and high school and enjoy it for the most part.  It reminds me that I could still teach.  If I wanted to.  Although it's not consistent work, it is work I can do, then leave behind when the bell rings.  No staying late grading.  No lesson planning.  Some teachers leave me fantastic lesson plans where things are laid out -- and sometimes I can actually teach (instead of playing a video)!  Others expect me to teach their class without any direction.  It can be frustrating sometimes, but the work is very flexible, and I am thankful.  However, I am still left with that feeling in the pit of my stomach.

God moved me from Asia, and I chose to follow willingly.  I do not know the future.  But He has given me a new direction and purpose.  I know this to be true with a resolution I can only account to faith.  Although that doesn't stop me from looking over my shoulder into the past, my only hope is to learn from what is behind me and press forward.

Who knows?  Perhaps He will bring me back to teaching.  Perhaps He will bring me back to Asia.  For now I find peace in knowing He is preparing me for a very different future than I have ever imagined.  And I cannot quit.