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I have been procrastinating writing this for quite a while now. I have been home for nearly three weeks, and this final blog post has been looming over me through the excitement of seeing my family/friends again and getting re-adjusted to American life. It was as if once I wrote this final blog post, my experience would have been officially over…and I wasn't quite ready for that. You'd think that after being across the world for seven months, I'd have so much to say about my experience and what I've learned. However, when it came down to it, I found myself at a loss of words. 

Upon returning to the US, I think, in a way, I had painted this picture in my mind that the reverse culture shock would hit me like a rock, and I would immediately recognize changes in myself upon getting adjusted to my old lifestyle. Of course, there were immediate shocks, such as how clean our country was and how organized the traffic was. The pine trees where I live held a new type of beauty after not seeing them for so long. Immediately I noticed the higher standards, especially in people's appearance. I felt out of place in the Seattle Airport, surrounded by travelers boasting expensive purses, shoes, and fashionable outfits. I got home and was so excited to have a washer machine and a dishwasher. I looked through my pantry and was in awe at the many food options. However, after a few days at home, I felt myself settling quite well back into my American lifestyle. It was as if my Bangladesh experience had been reduced to the box in the corner of my room with all the notes, pictures, and gifts the kids had given me before I left. And that is what scared me. While at Bangla Hope, the kids constantly said, "When you go back home to your country, you will forget us just like all of the other missionaries." Hearing this while in Bangladesh sounded silly. I thought, how could I ever forget this place? I assumed Bangla Hope would remain such a huge part of my life once back in the US. However, after being back home day by day, as I become more busy and focused on my summer and future school plans, Bangla Hope has begun to grow a bit dimmer. 

While I have made this blog open for friends and family to stay updated on my experience, the primary purpose of this blog has been for me. I wanted to use it to make a word scrapbook of my experience to look back on my time in Bangladesh and have more organized thoughts to read instead of my journal with barely legible handwriting. I'm making this last blog post to fully reflect on my experience at Bangla Hope while everything is still fresh in my mind. Although my experiences in Bangladesh will grow fainter as time passes, the kids and memories will always hold a special place in my heart.

Overall I've seen three main areas of growth/change in perspective that Bangladesh has initiated: God, society, and me. I wanted to be deliberate about writing down specific perspective shifts I have seen in these three categories so that one day I can look back and remember in exactly what ways my SM experience impacted me. 

Here are my thoughts. 

GOD: I began my SM year with many questions about religion and God Himself. The summer before Bangladesh, I worked at camp. Summer camp has a way of simplifying God. As counselors, we didn't show Jesus to these kids through intensive, knowledge-packed sermons. Instead, we played with them, laughed with them, sang with them, and let them experience the outdoors. One night I led my girls out to the field, and we had worship under the stars. I asked them why they loved Jesus, and all their eyes lit up. Their responses could be summed up with this unanimous opinion: Jesus was their best friend. Jesus was their superhero. Jesus was so cool. I remembered smiling at hearing all their responses because I, too, used to think the same thing when I was little. But then it hit me…God hasn't changed. Why has my opinion of Him changed? I wondered when God went from being so simple in my mind to so complex. I realized as I got older that my view of God had metamorphosed into something I didn't even know was correct. That summer, I prayed that God would send me somewhere for my SM year where I would be able to re-discover who He was and what His character was really like. (At this point in the summer, I still did not know where my SM location would be). I wanted to start at the base of Christianity and rebuild the blocks of faith. Little did I know at the time…the solution to that request would be sending me to hang out with over 100 kids for half a year. Kids. And it worked. God really has a sense of humor, though, because if I had known about the craziness that would ensue for the next seven months, I might not have ended up in Bangladesh. We have so much to learn from children. We underestimate them. Yet these kids really helped mold my view of Jesus and His character. Here's how. 

From the moment we stepped foot on campus, it was evident that the missionaries were the center of attention. Talk about crowds of people. I couldn't walk outside my apartment without girls running up and grabbing my hands, arms, and even sometimes my shirt. Wherever there was a missionary, there was a crowd of kids around. For the first time, I understood how Jesus must have felt having crowds constantly around him, asking Him to tell them stories, heal them, listen to them, etc. I realized how much patience it takes to deal with crowds, which I often found myself lacking when dealing with the kids. There were times I would almost get panicked by everyone trying to talk to me at once or hold my hand and I'd just completely shut down or go inside, away from the kids. Sometimes I would lose track of who was around me and who was trying to talk to me because there were too many people to focus on. These experiences with crowds made me look into Jesus' work here on earth with awe. He handled the masses with such awareness, compassion, and patience. He knew who was around Him. For instance, although surrounded by swarms of people, He noticed when the bleeding lady touched His garment wishing to be healed. Despite the chaos occurring around Him, Jesus loved. 

In addition, I saw many similarities between the kids' actions with me and my actions with God. Kids can be brutal sometimes. A common phrase used by the kids was, "You don't love me because _______." The blank usually had to do with me not doing what they wanted me to do. For example, "You don't love me because you won't come and play dodgeball with me right now." "You don't love me because you won't give me a piece of candy." And in addition to this phrase, the kids used something I called "the silent treatment." This was an action taken when a kid was angry at a missionary. Instead of going up to the missionary to talk to them, most would completely shut the missionary out of their life. This silence could last from a couple of days to weeks to months. And it was consistent with all age groups…younger kids to teenagers. Katherine and I tried to teach the kids conflict-resolution skills. Still, it seemed like every time; they resorted to complete silence. It was their coping mechanism, and I found this incredibly frustrating. Most of the time, they were mad for the silliest of reasons too! But I couldn't talk to them about it because they would ignore me or run away when I tried to reason with them. It was an immature and completely unhelpful way of dealing with problems. And then it hit me…I do the exact same thing with God. I think a lot of us do. How often do we get angry with God when He doesn't answer our prayer in a specific way or when we don't get something we've been asking for? I have found that when I'm angry at God, instead of reasoning with Him, most times I completely block Him out of my life. Because, for some reason, that seems like the easiest solution. And being in Bangladesh dealing with the silent treatment daily, I know how it feels to have someone you love completely shut you off from their life. And my love for the kids doesn't even compare to Christ's love for us. I don't think we even realize how much it breaks God's heart when we shut Him out of our lives when we are angry. And yet He loves us still. He still welcomes us with open arms despite our shortcomings. 

One day one of the student missionaries commented that setting the bar low for the kids here was beneficial because if not, we, as missionaries, would get disappointed when a kid let us down. I get where this person was coming from because a few times, I personally really put my faith in some kids, and then they let me down, stopped talking to me, and I was crushed. I began to think about this concept of setting low standards to protect our emotions. I remember thinking about this while doing my laundry, and suddenly, I thought of God and us. And then the question popped into my head…we let God down so much…does He set the bar low for His children, or does he believe in us and is genuinely hurt every time we fail Him? I stopped doing my laundry and wrote this in my journal: "God, you have poured out your entire heart and soul into reaching out to your children, just like we missionaries have tried to do at Bangla Hope. And sometimes, we act like we are following You. We become closer to You, begin to rely on You and take Your advice. But then inevitably, at some point, we let You down…because our world is so different from Your sinless one. Do You get crushed when we abandon You, or do You set the bar so low for humanity that it doesn't affect You as much? I know I can never understand the feeling that You get of so many of Your children leaving You after You have done everything in Your power to love them, but after being here at this orphanage, I'm starting to get a better feeling. Just like You and I live in separate worlds, the missionaries have grown up in separate worlds as these Bangla Hope kids in a sense. We don't know the pain and hurt they've faced throughout their lifetime that is reflected in some of their nasty actions. But I don't have superpowers, God. Right now, I'm mad at those who are mad at me for no reason. Lord, please soften my heart so I can be sympathetic to the unlovable, just like You are daily to me."

I fell back on that prayer many times during my time at Bangla Hope because I needed a special type of love/patience/sympathy for these kids. After considering what I wrote above, I don't think God sets the bar low for His children. He's understanding of the fact that we're sinners and live in a world infiltrated with sin. Yet He believes in us. He believes that we can follow Him with our whole hearts. He wants to help us even when we mess up and shut Him out of our lives for the silliest reasons. And that alone says so much about His character. God loves us despite our failures. Even if we don't choose to follow Him or believe in Him, He still loves us. And that's a pretty amazing thing. 

SOCIETY: If there's one thing I've learned about people as a whole, it's this: Humans have an innate desire to be loved. It's woven within our DNA. It's a desire for belonging and a need to be cared for. I think that often Americans, growing up in a typical family structure, do not even realize how vital this need is because they have had this desire for belonging met since they were a baby. I didn't even realize this because I have taken my supportive family for granted, so the thought of being "alone" has never occurred to me. It wasn't until I went to Bangladesh and lived with kids with no strong parent figure in their lives that I realized the emotional and behavioral consequences of kids not feeling "loved." For the most part, these kids just had each other. They practically raised each other due to little staff involvement and no other parental figures. These kids were each other's family. And this can fill the gaps in these little ones' hearts to a certain extent but not quite. It is evident through their words and actions that these kids are longing for more. Many of them memorized every member of my family. They would draw family pictures, drawing themselves as one of my family member's.

For others, this desire for love was reflected in their inappropriate behavior. For example, some kids wanted attention but didn't know how to get it, so they would slap, pinch, manipulate…do anything to get a missionary to notice them. I think this behavior, in a way, extends beyond humans as well. One of my dogs at home is Bella. She was abused for a long time before we rescued her. Out of our four dogs, she desires attention from us the most. She will do anything to be pet and loved, even if that means barking to let us know she's there and ready to be pet. It's like God has put this desire to be loved in everything He created, and it's very sad what humans will do if this need is not being met. I tried to be aware of this when girls would be extra obnoxious in trying to get my attention, but I struggled with this so much. It was sometimes overwhelming to recognize how many kids there were at the orphanage needing to feel like someone cared for them. However, I was only one person and could not spend adequate time with every single kid. And what made it worse was that I was only there for a few months. They were there for much of their lifetime. I could only provide so much support for them before I would have to go home to my supportive family and leave them with nothing. Leaving those with whom you make such strong connections is the worst part of an SM year. 

Upon returning from a mission trip, I often hear a common phrase: "I learned that money cannot buy happiness." They come back and share that the people they were with were penniless, yet they seemed so content with what they had. I looked to see if this was accurate at Bangla Hope. At first, it seemed like the kids were so incredibly happy. There was lots of playing, laughter, and smiles. It wasn't until I had been there for months that I saw discontentment among the kids. It was something I had missed at first due to the excitement of being new. However, I began noticing deep sadness among the kids the longer I was there. Girls would come and talk about some pretty dark life experiences and thoughts they were having, and all of a sudden, I had a new perspective of this "happy" campus. This got me thinking…what is the primary factor influencing humans' emotional satisfaction? (apart from God, of course) Although these kids were very poor, I couldn't attribute money as the reason for dissatisfaction with their lives. And I know, in general, some wealthy people are happy. Some wealthy people are sad. Some poor people are happy. Some people are sad. Money isn't a factor. I was talking to a friend about this. In her research, she found that a solid family structure and a sense of belonging often influence happiness and contentment the most. And I think that this is so true. No matter how much money is in your bank account, if you have a solid support group to lean back on…that creates a sense of peace and happiness. Again…humans have an innate desire to be loved and to feel like they belong. And that is what these Bangla Hope kids were lacking. 

Apart from this, in terms of society, it became apparent upon returning to the US the lack of connection between different families and social groups here. In Bangladesh, it is customary to talk to strangers. Villagers know their neighbors, and everyone seems like they're pals. If you go to the market, it is so incredibly loud because everyone is talking to each other, talking to each other. In the evenings, villagers hang out in market shops, sipping tea and visiting. 

In contrast, when I got back to the peace and quiet of the States, the silence was almost unsettling. Everywhere I went, it was as if everyone was in their invisible bubbles, and strangers' "bubbles" rarely collided. I can personally attest to this. I live in a neighborhood surrounded by houses in every direction. I literally have not talked to any of my neighbors. This is partly because knowing neighbors is not an expectation where I live, as in Bangladesh. In my opinion, this lack of connection in American society is due to an overloaded schedule. And I think this packed schedule is partly due to higher societal standards in areas such as beauty, for example. In the States, there are beauty standards that are expected to be met, especially for women. To be considered "well-maintained," women must have groomed hair, nails, a nice outfit, etc.

When I first returned to America, I felt trapped due to the strong pull to conform to our higher societal standards. In Bangladesh, outer appearance requires minimal effort. There was no looking good to "fit in." Nobody cared what you looked like. But here in the States, it requires so much extra effort to keep up with constant fashion changes, hair maintenance, and shoe selections. I think this is, in part, why Americans are so busy. It's not necessarily due to this idea that Americans work harder. Bengali people work extremely hard, and most do strenuous labor daily. It's that Americans' schedules are filled with these other non-essential components such as hair appointments, shopping sprees, etc. Everything is more complicated here. Sometimes it seems we Americans are too busy and focused on our "to-do" lists that often rest gets overlooked. And when we do find time for rest, we hang out with our families instead of venturing out to make connections with others. And that is something I miss most about Bangladesh…the freedom that comes with not having any standards to live up to. It's empowering. 

ME: I've said it so many times, but I'll repeat it: It's incredible what you can learn from kids. Not only do I have a new perspective on God and society, but I've also learned so much about myself from hanging out with kids daily. Being at that orphanage was a humbling experience for me, to say the least. Kids are so blunt, and in general, the Bengali people seem very straightforward in their speech. These kids at the orphanage had no vocal filters. Whatever came to their mind came out of their mouth, both the good and the bad. 

I caught on very soon after being at Bangla Hope that I cannot take the kids' comments to heart. I was called many names while there…and we're talking about anything ranging from "You're so stylish" to "You look like a carrot." And this was funny for me because usually I'm pretty sensitive about what people think about me, but after being called just about every word these kids could think of, I've become desensitized to others' opinions. Before deciding on an SM location, I asked God to help me find one that would benefit my character growth most. It cracks me up that He sent me to hang out with kids and that these kids did indeed grow my character. And it wasn't like their comments carried no meaning whatsoever. These kids verbally picked apart every insecurity I already had. Any flaw in outer appearance that I was already aware of, they proceeded to make fun of. And I had to learn to brush it off and let it go. Being around these kids allowed me to base my self-worth apart from what others thought of me. And this can be a very freeing feeling. 

Naturally, I tend to be a people pleaser. And so, upon arriving at Bangla Hope for the first time, I wanted the kids to like me. I wanted to be the "fun" missionary. I had created this unrealistic fantasy in my mind where I wouldn't have to discipline the kids because they would be angels and wouldn't do anything wrong. Part of the problem was that I worked at a camp the summer before Bangladesh, and I had angels of kids in my cabin every week that listened to me and did what I said. Since I had no problems with my summer campers, I assumed the Bengali kids would be the same. Wrong, wrong, wrong. To put it simply: many of the Bangla Hope kids could be described as "unmanageable," to the point where instead of dealing with the kids, many staff hid in their houses to avoid contact with them. It was as if the missionaries were clowns in a circus to entertain and distract the kids. I learned very quickly that discipline would be required to survive. The alternative was letting the kids walk all over me, which would reinforce the bad behavior in their minds and make their behavior even more difficult for future missionaries to deal with. It was evident from these kids' behavior that previous missionaries had let them get away with a lot. And this is understandable, considering the emotional exhaustion resulting from being around so many kids and the fact that it's a lot easier to let the kids behave badly rather than taking the time to discipline them. I struggled with this concept because I wanted the kids to be my friends, but I also felt the need to correct their behavior. (And by bad behavior, I mean hitting, pinching, hair pulling, stealing, refusing to leave our apartment when asked, etc.) For many of these kids, all they had ever known was Bangla Hope. They were unaware of how people acted in the real world, and I felt like I would be doing a disservice to them if I put up with some of their outrageous behavior because then they would think that that was how everybody acted outside the walls of Bangla Hope, which was inaccurate. And so, instead of letting this behavior slide, I began to address it.

I had many conversations with the girls about maturity and conflict-resolution skills. I understood that most of their behavior was due to them needing attention and not knowing how to get it from the missionaries. And because of this, I had many one-on-one talks with the girls offering alternative methods to getting the missionary's attention that didn't include physical harm to us. At times I would have to bring kids to some of the executive staff about behavioral problems we were facing when they refused to listen to me, which obviously the kids did not appreciate. And this was so hard at first because I wanted to have good relationships with all the kids. But since I cared about them, I also wanted to teach them the correct way to handle situations, which sometimes weakened my relationship with them. Most kids would be resilient and continue their friendship with me after correcting their behavior, but a few didn't. I learned that it is ok to put relationships in jeopardy for the right reasons. I learned that it is ok for some people not to like you. I don't have to have everyone's approval. Unless you are caving to everyone around you's expectations and desires, inevitably, at some point, someone in your life will disagree with your actions, and your relationship might even be strained in the process. I left Bangla Hope with some kids not liking me…and I'm ok with that. 

Lastly, I learned that I'm much stronger than I thought. If I knew the situation I would be in at Bangla Hope…the chaos that would ensue for the next seven months…I don't know if I would have gone. I'm a quiet person at heart. I'm an introvert. I don't like to be around swarms of people. I enjoy the quiet of my bedroom. Bangla Hope is a high pace, high energy; it's a party-everyday type of place. And because of this, I had to be extra deliberate about finding my quiet times and moments to recharge among the craziness. Yes, by the end of my time there, I was emotionally drained and exhausted…but not defeated. I think day by day, I got stronger and felt more capable of handling the kids and the everyday challenges that came about. I learned that just because I tend to be more introverted doesn't mean I am weak. I was able to find this inner strength that carried me through my time at that orphanage because Bangla Hope was so far out of my comfort zone. Every day I prayed for patience and continual love to give to the kids, and God pulled through. He held my hand through every difficult situation, which I appreciate because there were many. 

Before coming to Bangladesh, I asked God to rebuild the structure of my life. I wanted a new foundation for my relationship with Him. I wanted to look at myself and the world around me from a new perspective. I wanted to make an impact on those I came in contact with during my SM year, but I also prayed that those who God put in my life for the next seven months would make an impact on me as well. I realized soon after that the request for God to rebuild the foundation of my life was dangerous. Dangerous in the sense that it would not be easy. It was uncomfortable. Being at Bangla Hope was out of my comfort zone. Yet looking back, I can say I am stronger and more mature in that I see certain areas of my life in a different light. 

One song that was in the back of my mind throughout my time in Bangladesh was "How He Loves" by David Crowder. Here are a few of the lyrics 

He is jealous of me.

Love's like a hurricane. I am a tree,

Bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy.

When all of a sudden,

I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory.

And I realize just how beautiful You are,

And how great Your affections are for me.

And, oh, how He loves us, oh.

Oh, how He loves us.

How He loves us, oh.

I like how the song describes hardships in our lives as "afflictions eclipsed by glory." Often going through rough experiences or "afflictions," as the song calls it, we cannot see the light at the end of the tunnel. We are blinded by the storm and cry out to God in frustration and anger. But then we look back at those moments, and we see God and how He pulled us through. And we see How beautiful He is, how His intentions are good, and How much He loves us. God doesn't promise smooth waters, but he promises us a boat to get us through.

Bangladesh has changed me. It has altered my perspectives on many things and has given me better insight into specific areas of my life. However, it has only started the change, not finished it. I guess upon my return back to the States, I expected a fairytale ending. I expected to be a completely transformed individual, invincible to everything life had to throw at me. Haha wrong. If anything, Bangladesh allowed me to press pause on my life. Putting all other distractions aside, it has allowed me to reflect on my life in a fascinating way and has made me aware of areas that need the most improvement. Bangladesh is just the beginning. I'm not changed…I am in the process of changing. 

I already miss all my Bangla Hope kids so much. On my last night there, as I was bawling my eyes out, giving goodnight hugs to the kids for the last time, it hit me how much I loved all of them. The word "noise" now has a different meaning for me…the constant door knocking, yelling right in my ear, and singing quality being measured by how loud you could sing a song. I will miss the endless giggles, smiles, and maybe even the persistent teasing. I could go on, but I think Winnie the Pooh says it the best, "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." 

Bangla Hope, you will be missed :)