On mission reunions

I went to my mission reunion tonight. Bittersweet. The sweetness came from seeing all my old friends, of course, most of whom I hardly ever see. Serving a mission forges bonds of friendship like no other. Even the missionaries I hardly knew feel like friends — it’s all about the shared experience. And it’s great. I love my mission, along with everyone who served there.

And that’s where the bitter comes in. I love it so much that it hurts to resurrect the memories, impaling my heart with pangs of nostalgia. Forgetting numbs the pain. (It’s a good sort of pain, though, because it’s got all that sweetness mixed in. So I don’t really mind it, but it still hurts.) It’s easier to just move on with life and leave the memories for heaven when I can actually do something about them.

But for now there’s nothing I can do. Sure, I could try to relive my mission, but the past has passed, and trying to pull it into the present just isn’t going to work. I’m not a missionary any more. All my blissful memories of riding my bike around Bangkok and eating muu ping (meat on a stick, eaten with sticky rice) and putting candles in the water for Loi Krathong and teaching discussions and stopping people on the streets to talk about the gospel and eating so much khaaw niaw mamuang that I felt like I was going to throw up — it’s all pretty solidly in the past. I can’t bring it back.

So going to mission reunions is hard, in a way, because it reminds me what I can’t have. All I can do is focus on the present and do my best to make sure that these memories I’m making now are good ones. I’ll forge my way on through life, leaving a trail of memories behind me. If only I could go back and relive the good ones. That’d be heaven.

Ben, I can relate. Nostalgia hurts me so much that I purposely avoid experiences that cause those pangs. I hate saying goodbye to friends. It makes me feel physically ill. The only thing that consoles me is the thought of a happy reunion in heaven with everyone I knew and loved and was close to here. The Plan of Salvation is a good thing. :-)

I’m glad you get invited. I know what you’re feeling. It’s an interesting kind of pain. Somewhere between betrayal and futility, and loss.

I have only been to one mission reunion, and I just didn’t know how to handle it. I found it infinitely amusing that the pecking order still existed, as did many of the cliques that established themselves out there. I often wonder that since I didn’t attend BYU, or hail from Utah originally, that there was some big party going on between friends who went to my mission and that I was on the outside.

I don’t think I was liked very well, but that doesn’t matter. When I went back to visit in May a lot of the people I served remembered me. That was very important.

It seems strange to me that there are missionaries who are so uninvolved in Thailand, when I’m so involved with it on a daily basis. You can do things like write letters to members and investigators you knew, you know.

Most of all, though, recognize that the mission is an anomaly. You’ll never have the same relationship with Thailand or the people here again, and that’s kind of inescapable. Coming back is both good and bad.

For one thing, until you come back you don’t really know what Thailand is like. I honestly think that. When we’re missionaries there’s this false sense of heroism, this us-against-the-world attitude created by the monastic lifestyle of missionaries. That is, you’re not allowed to do perfectly normal things, so you associated value judgments to things that are, in reality, either neutral or not as we used to assess them on the mission. Things as simple as walking down the street at 10pm, or chatting with friends on the phone, or reading the newspaper, or going to a movie, or not being miserly, or having a conversation without the compulsion to bring up Christianity. It varies from person to person, obviously, but, you know, acting like you would in your hometown, except here.

I guess what I’m saying is that returned missionaries like to think they know what Thailand is like–and this applies by extension to all missionaries–but anyone whose only time spent here is as a missionary really has no idea. It’s an interesting phenomenon, really. The mission creates this person who knows all about certain aspects, but has no clue about others.

So by all means, come back. Remove that patina of romanticized memory. You’ll be glad you did, and you’ll come to know Thailand better in some ways in a short time than you ever did in two years.

Katherine: I agree. :) Now if only heaven could come sooner…

sixline: Hmm, I think my mission experience was different — but maybe I was just oblivious to the pecking order and cliques. Interesting.

rikker: I’d love to go back. :) Yes, missionaries certainly have a different perspective on their mission country — because of the things you mentioned — but a lot of things are the same regardless of whether you’re a missionary or not. The food tastes the same. The rice paddies and tuk tuks look the same. The language mostly stays the same (albeit with an expanded vocabulary). So I agree, but I wouldn’t be so quick to discount the mission experience. :) And I do keep in touch with a lot of the members via Facebook, actually, but I am far too uninvolved with Thailand on a daily basis. I need to change that.

Interesting you should mention language–I’d say that’s the number one area where returned missionaries overestimate their own knowledge (without knowing they’re doing so). That’s nothing against anyone in particular, you least of all, but most missionaries aren’t, frankly speaking, particularly good at Thai throughout their missions, nor on the day they leave their missions, let alone a few years later. The bar is set low because the language is perceived as being so difficult. So few people attempt to learn Thai at all that it makes missionaries look very skilled. Add to that that Thais are very complimentary to one’s face about any efforts to speak Thai at all that it makes people think they’re better than they are. Accent is a big part, of course, but more than anything it’s vocabulary, and especially register. Knowing what to say in a given setting.

That probably sounds negative, but it’s my honest assessment of the situation. Particularly at conference time it becomes glaringly apparent. I think things need to be fixed starting at the source–the MTC needs a pedagogical reassessment, and a stricter screening process for teachers, finding a balance between native speakers who understand the pedagogy and second-language speakers whose Thai is good enough (and understand the pedagogy). And then an actual study program for missionaries in the field. I have a few thoughts on this.

Hey, but you brought it up… ;)

Oh, I certainly agree, missionaries overestimate their own knowledge of the language. And I’d love to see a pedagogical reassessment of the MTC (and hear your thoughts on it and on the in-field study program). But even in spite of the fact that missionaries aren’t very good at Thai, it’s still the same language. :) I guess what I’m saying is that when I go back to Thailand, it won’t be as if everyone’s suddenly speaking Swahili. It’s still Thai, albeit a deeper, richer, expanded Thai. But still Thai. Does that make sense?

Yeah, that makes sense. So when are you coming back?

A very good question. I have no idea. :) Today I was talking with one of my fellow playwrights and we entertained the idea of saving up a bunch of money and then just moving to Thailand for two or three years just to write. It’s a tempting proposition. :) But we’ll see — who knows what curveballs life may be throwing my way…