Something new happened today. Timberley and I attended a meeting of local church leaders who gathered to discuss mission strategies. Specifically, they sought how to help churches in the candidate selection process and how to serve their missionaries once they are on the field. Our story touched more on how to help when missionaries are at the end of the process and, for whatever reason, have made the transition to life at home again.
I was asked to share our experience of trauma on the field and how we were helped by member care, other missionaries, our local church at home, etc. I shared our story in three stages, from the beginning of the candidate process, our time on the field leading to the loss of Anna and the aftermath of that loss as we transitioned back home. We had an engaging discussion with these church leaders as we sought to find out how we as the local church can help when people on the field are undergoing trauma of whatever kind.
As I was preparing for this morning, it became very evident to me that in the eighteen years since the events of May 7, 2008, I don’t recall ever sharing this set of stories. In the classroom and in other settings I regularly share stories of Anna and the expressions of her faith. I do not recall, however, sharing publicly these stories of what happened to Timberley, Sam and I in the days, weeks, months and years following her loss.
When we were done, there was an opportunity for the other participants to ask questions. I was a little nervous about this part of the morning, because in the past when I would field questions about Anna, it was easy to direct the answers and stories in positive ways. Today, on the other hand, I was less at ease. Today’s stories dealt with matters that were more personal to me. We had opened the possibility to questions that would cut to matters that I, on a bad day, would view as failings. On a good day, I would simply not think about these things. I did not know which way the questions would tend.
Today’s crowd was friendly, however. They wanted to hear our stories in order to learn from them. They wanted to learn from our experiences–both good and bad–that we have had, so that they would be better prepared to help and serve others.
After the meeting, Timberley and I talked about the experience of sharing those stories and the discussion that it prompted among the others. One of the last questions of the morning concerned how to help those who are mourning to see new life after the mourning has passed. I’m not expressing the question very elegantly and perhaps incorrectly, but Timberley and I felt that even having the opportunity to share these stories in this particular venue and for this particular purpose was a new goodness that we have not experienced to this point. The loss we experienced has shaped us in such a way that we can now serve others in new ways. Timberley leads a ladies Bible study where she has the opportunity to influence a generation of younger women. She directs an ESL program at our church. I continue to hear from people I have never met, who have read our story on this blog. My teaching ministry at the seminary continues to increase the number of students I come into contact with. We have recently seen a very tangible good come from Anna’s story of life and death and rebirth–the Anna Borger Memorial Scholarship Fund.
To answer that question about seeing new life after the mourning, I think I would reword it and say that there is new life in the midst of the mourning. Like a shrub growing up over and around an abandoned tree stump, it sometimes hides the loss that is beneath. Some passersby might not even know that an old stump lies dormant beneath the shrub. Yet it is still there. Known to those who know. Hidden by other beauties from those who do not. The fortunate are those who know of the abandoned stump, but who also enjoy the new flowers that hide it.
Anna Resurget 