I spent four years teaching English and studying the national language in East Asia and have wanted to return ever since. Why did I leave? I left for a number of reasons. For the last three years I was in East Asia, I was the only Asian-American on staff. I desperately wanted other Asian Americans to experience what I experienced. Though a foreigner in many aspects, in a strange sort of way, I fit in for the first time. I excelled at something that felt completely natural to me–storytelling, and not just any kind of storytelling, but the meaningful kind. I told them stories about hope, about love, about faith that the students never heard or experienced before. And they believed. I returned to the States to recruit new Asian-American graduates to have the same opportunity and to learn how to lead them. I returned because I wanted my mother to have the chance to get to know Dan and be able to finally have closure with her unfulfilled dream of having her daughter marry a Chinese man. I returned to the States to get married. We stayed because Dan realized that his latent passion for business wasn’t as evil as it once was believed, but could be used in incredible acts of kindness and affect social change. Four years later since we left East Asia, we live in the middle of nowhere, U.S.A. The same amount of time as I was in East Asia.

I recently found out The Linguist, a teammate from East Asia times, recently re-committed himself to living in East Asia for another four years. He first arrived in 2001, my second year there, and has been living there up till this last year–his Sabbatical year. I was surprised to hear that he planned to return, mainly because the majority of us who’ve returned for our Sabbatical never went back.

Harvard, a friend I used to work with in Boston, recently called me just to catch up. She asked me the question, “When are you and Dan thinking about going back?” I dreaded answering her since two years ago, my answer was, “As soon as possible.” It has since changed to, “In a year or two.” And now I answered her with, “Maybe.” At the time, I didn’t think twice about it. Now that I do have time, it makes me want to cry, because I knew my purpose then. I knew who I was then. And I was so sure of myself.

Now, in the middle of nowhere, I feel like I’m faltering. I don’t know my purpose. I think I know who I am. And I’m completely unsure of myself.

So today as I was reading the sometimes over saccharine Max Lucado, I was struck by his words from 3:16 The Numbers of Hope:

“Since he has no needs, you cannot tire him.
Sine he is without age, you cannot lose him.
Since he has no sin, you cannot corrupt him.

…can’t he make good out of our bad and sense out of our faltering lives? Of course he can. He is God.”

The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. I know I’m supposed to be right where I am despite feeling like I’m leading a faltering life. Thankfully, I have a God who can make sense of the rest of it. For today, that is what I needed. That assurance.