Following Signs
When I was a kid, I was a big believer in signs. (Most notably when it came to the boys I liked. I distinctly remember telling my diary about the sign my middle school crush boarded our school bus at the exact moment Ryan Cabrera’s “True” began to play – “our song,” obviously. I mean, that had to mean something.) I used to seek them out, to beg the universe in all my angsty pre-teen confusion, to send me signs, to answer the questions I was too afraid to ask. (They never did give me the answers I was looking for.) Thankfully I’ve calmed down since those days; I no longer rely on these so-called “signs” to do my job for me. But I still believe it’s important for us to listen when the universe sends us a message uncalled.
These messages have helped me so much in the past few months, as I prepared for my journey to Togo. I’ve wanted to serve in the Peace Corps for as long as I can remember, yet the reality of what that meant didn’t hit me until I was accepted and counting down the days to our departure. Though I haven’t yet doubted my decision, with each passing day the fears and anxieties grow stronger. Am I cut out for this? Do I even have anything valuable to offer my future community members? What if I majorly screw something up or inadvertently make someone’s life worse for having met me? And am I strong enough to handle the mental and emotional strain of integrating into a rural French-speaking community whose culture is so vastly different from my own?!
The first time the universe tried to reassure me, I didn’t think too much of it. I wasn’t really nervous yet. I just thought it was a fun coincidence that my Uber driver had family in Togo, and I appreciated the history he shared with me. The next time, I still didn’t impart too much meaning to it. After all, ASU has lots of international students. It’s not that unusual that I happened to meet someone from Rwanda who had had a wonderful relationship with the Peace Corps volunteer who had served in his community. Then I met a classmate who was from Benin and excited to make me practice my terribly rusty French. I think this was when I started to get suspicious. Then just last week, two days before I was to leave for staging, I was out to lunch with my grandparents when my Pop Pop bragged to our waitress about my upcoming trip. Usually when people ask where I’m going, I have to explain where Togo is or that no, it’s not Tonga. Instead, this waitress exclaimed that she loved Togo; she had family doing mission work in Togo and had summered there several times. The last few months have been full of these little moments, moments that on their own are no more than coincidences, but taken together have helped give me the extra boost I needed when I felt scared and unsure.
Most recently, I found myself in my hotel room on the first day of our staging in Philly (basically an orientation). I was writing my first letter home to mom [who I’d just tearfully parted with the day before] and feeling terribly emotional. [No matter how many times I say goodbye to my loved ones, it never gets any easier. I’m tearing up now just thinking about it!] As I looked up in tears from my letter, I saw a packet of seeds on the desk. It was a gift from the hotel staff. Odd choice… usually they go for chocolates or mints… I picked it up to find that it was a pack of Forget-Me-Nots.
The hardest part of any journey is saying farewell to those you’re leaving behind. To all the loved ones I’m leaving for now, know that you are never forgotten. I carry you with me in my heart always. Your love and support is manifests itself not only in your words of encouragement and loving hugs but also in these cosmic messages of reassurance that remind me of your love when you’re not near. From the bottom of my heart, thank you, and I’ll see you soon.
