There are many things I
enjoy about Christmas at home—the familiar decorations, the traditional
cookies, the secret code names on the gifts that taunt me from beneath the
tree, the basket of Christmas letters that sits beside the fireplace. Each year
the members of my family take turns digging through the basket, searching for
photographs and looking for letters from people we know. I have dreamed of the
day I would pick out red and green-trimmed stationary and share my own seasonal
news. I’ve penned the Kuehn family Christmas/New Year’s letter eight of the
past ten years. This year I am sending my own.
I wonder why it has taken
me this long and why this is the year I decide to write. If I am honest—more
honest than I believe one is supposed to be in a Christmas letter—I would say
it is because my life has not seemed “letter worthy.” I am not yet a “real”
adult, at least not the kind that sends letters. There is no new house, no
fiancé, no babies on the way or big career moves to speak of.
I did manage to land a
youth ministry position at a church in Liberty, MO. I was there for an entire
25 months (7 months more than the average youth worker) before I resigned. Youth
ministry is just not what I was created to do. I am not really sure what I was created to do, but it must be
something else.
My final Sunday at the
church, I described to the senior high why I was leaving and where I was going.
I explained that each of us has different talents, gifts, and opportunities.
Sometimes, many times, we settle for what is known, comfortable or expected
when we are capable of more. The doors are open, but we are afraid to walk
through them. Other times, we long for escape the way I have longed to live
overseas ever since I graduated. We push and we strive, but the doors do not
open. And so we stay put. Because we must. We seek other opportunities to use
our gifts and experiences, which is, of course, how I ended up living in a
community house in Kansas City, KS, teaching ESL courses to Bhutanese refugees,
and working at St. Stephen Lutheran Church.
It’s difficult to sit down
with a group of high school students (most of them seniors and freshmen),
encouraging them to try new things and pursue their dreams and desires, when
you are not doing so yourself. I try to motivate my students to take risks, to
move into spaces that may seem uncomfortable, and to chance leaving what they
like in order to pursue what they love, what God has called them to. And those
are the reasons I have chosen to leave a life that I like, so that I can pursue
the life I was created to live.
Three and a half years ago
(not long after I graduated from college with a B.A. in Writing and a fuzzy
idea of the future), I set off for a four-month mission term in England. I returned
from that experience with a newfound love for refugee and immigrant populations
and a strong desire to get back overseas. I spent six unexpected months working
my high school job at the HyVee bakery and living with my parents in Lincoln,
NE. After that, I left for Kansas City, where I hoped to move in with a college
friend. That didn’t work out, but Kansas City did, and I wouldn’t trade my time
here for anything, not even the overseas teaching position I was offered two weeks
after I committed to moving. I decided that Kansas City deserved a fair shot, but
now I am ready to adventure again.
January 27th my
plane departs for Paris, France. I do not speak French, but I will be staying
with a family that does and I’m hoping I will be a fast learner. For three months I will focus on writing and
will serve as an English tutor for Nina, a tri-lingual five-year-old. I will
spend May in England, visiting friends and reconnecting with a country and
community that is lodged deeply in my heart. My flight is scheduled to return
in June, at which point I will walk through whichever door seems to be open. I
may go to graduate school, provided I get accepted. I may move to California. I
may move back to Kansas City. Or I may end up on the other side of the world.
I am open to the unknown
future. I’ve learned it’s better that way. It isn’t easy, at least not for me,
but I do believe it is better. God calls us to hold our lives loosely. In fact,
He calls us not to hold to them at all, but to deny them, to willingly give
them up—not because He wishes to take anything from us, but because He desires
to give us more. As long as our hands are full, our fingers clenched tightly
around people, positions, promises, and possessions, we are unable to receive
what might otherwise be ours.
This holiday season, as
you unwrap gifts and open boxes, think not only of the great gifts that God has
given you in family, friends, and fortune, but of the gifts He may still be
waiting to give. Are you willing to let go of what you have now in order to
take hold of something else? Are you willing to sacrifice what you know—what
you may even like—that you might pursue something you really love? It is my
hope that you will, and that you will become more yourself in the process.
And with that challenging
thought, I will bid you adieu. I would love to hear from you, and would be
delighted if you chose to follow my upcoming journey.
Grace, Peace, Joy, and
Love be yours,
Amanda Kuehn
So excited for you, Amanda. I think crossing an ocean once more will be a good place to start, and I can't wait to read about some of the things you learn and see and become this next year. Bon voyage!
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