The Goodbye That Woke Me Up

I’ve tried to make sense of the last two years of my life in blog form multiple times and can’t seem to get the words just right. So in true form of who I am, let me just get messy on paper for a minute to try to get this out.

I know I’m gonna look back when I’m at the end of my life and remember this time. It changed me. It altered who I am as a person and who I thought I wanted to be.

I not only moved, birthed a child, and saw a major shift in my career, I lost the most stable thing in my life—my dad. And I didn’t just lose him, I watched him die.

Excuse my language as I know you all remember me as the Christian missionary and mostly church culture will pretend like they don’t cuss here and there, but.. hospice is the biggest bitch I’ve ever met.

My husband and I set out to Dallas for a temporary work assignment in November of 2022. We thought we would come, do the job, and go back home. Adya was approaching 18 months and becoming a fun toddler and things were alright all around.

The morning we left I got a positive pregnancy test. Our life was truly changing. And I don’t know how— but immediately I knew I was having a son. Prior to that moment we had joked about little brother here and there and knew immediately after having adya we wanted a big family. We settled quite well in Dallas, focusing on our work and finding adya a cute little day school while I navigated morning sickness that made me feel like a corpse.

Then one day as I was vomiting for the fourth time in an hour, I received a text from my brother. I didn’t read the text, but Sri came and told me that my dad was dying and my brother had text me to let me know. I was very confused and checked the text and dad wasn’t dying he had only went to the hospital for a fall.

But minutes turned into hours, and hours to days. And I was on a plane to birmingham the next day because suddenly a simple UTI had turned into all kinds of ailments no one could explain. Ailments then turned into a stroke? And then a stroke turned into paralysis. It was a big WTF moment if there’s ever been one. My dad, the hero in my every story, was lying there on life support while his body shut down. Due to some infection that spread, paralysis took over his body and they removed part of his spine in order to save his life. The doctors gave us little hope, but hope nonetheless, and we believed like hell in the God our dad preached to us for years.

While everyone believed and prayed and rallied together, we saw our dad improve enough that he regained his ability to speak and though he would never walk again, he wiggled his toes! As he progressed, I went back to Dallas to be with my 1 year old baby and husband , and tried my damndest to not be so sick. But morning sickness mixed with severe anemia during pregnancy had me literally losing consciousness at any given moment. I was sick. But dad was getting better so everything was okay. I opted to find out the gender as soon as possible—I wanted to tell my daddy he was having a grandson. So that maybe, just maybe, he would want to hold on a while in this life.

But ultimately, it wasn’t enough. Nothing was. My dad graduated from a critical ICU room, to an inpatient rehabilitation hospital and was moving in the right direction. Until one day he wasn’t. None of us can tell you what happened , probably not even dad if he was here. But somehow—dad lost his will to live. His eagerness to fight. He asked to term his existing living will and became a DNR, and ultimately decided to finish his life at home on hospice.

When I tell you that was the hardest 12 days of my life, I mean it with every part of my being. I don’t wish it on anyone—ever.

When I look back on those twelve days, I wish could I could tell you we did everything we could to make the end of my dad’s life meaningful. But it was too much. We didn’t understand why this was happening, what he—or we, did to deserve such a bullshit ending. Though we were thankful for the unique opportunity to say goodbye, we were exhausted. People, from various decades of dad’s life came to appreciate him, pray with him, and kiss him goodbye. While we sat back and all of gained about 15 pounds because all we could control was eating something tasty to make that hell hurt less. When dad slept, he fought demons. We watched him be angry. We watched him be sad. We watched him forget us. We watched him remember again. And just like they tell you in the books, we got to see him be our daddy again one last time. Right before he passed, he was fully lucid, and we did everything we could to soak those moments in. But we were tired, and so much was left unsaid.

I regret it now, but at one point in those 12 days I sat with dad, and I begged him to stop suffering. I didn’t want to see his pain anymore. I wanted him to be free, even if it meant I lost him. And that’s what happened—and he’s better off. But damn we weren’t ready.

It’s almost been two years and I still can’t face the fact that he’s gone. It feels like at any moment I can call him and say something. Ask him about a car problem, tell him about the kids, or just chat for a minute. But at the end of the day, some random Joe carries his phone number now (I’ve called it), and we reached the end for this life.

There’s much more to this season of life that I have to expound on—but at the end of the day, know this. Nothing is forever. We’re not that powerful to keep it that way. And it should be like that. I had just held my dad’s hands moments before he breathed his last breath, no one else was in the room. I kissed him, told him I loved him and I knew this was the end and I would be okay but I would miss him. We had on his favorite gospel music, and the room slowly filled with his closest family. I went and sat on the couch, and I feel like he saw me lay down just tired as hell, right after that, my sister in law sat next to him, and in went a breath… then out— and we all knew immediately, he left us.

Since that moment, a lot of me also left. The insecurities, the doubts of what to do next, the petty little fights I had with people, the need to always be right, and also sadly the security of always having someone there for me. I’ve tried to navigate being a wife, a mother, a daughter, a student, a business woman, but a lot of it has felt pretty temporary since he’s been gone. And somehow, as bad as I want to hate him for leaving me like that, his last breath was the reminder I needed to remember not to waste my moments I get to be here alive. My last gift from the man I’ve loved most in my life. And hopefully we can all learn from it.

Until next time friends, remember to be living while you’re alive. 🤍

leave the boat

So some friends and I are reading through the Bible in a year this year and the other day, something stuck out to me. So much so, it’s been lingering in my head for days now. 

We all know the story of Noah and the Ark, right? Noah was a righteous man, and God entrusted him with a vision, to build an ark, to preserve mankind and all the species on earth. But the catch was, God spoke this to Noah in the middle of a drought, no one had seen rain. And God tells Noah, hey bud—I’m about to do something that has never been done before. I’m going to flood the whole earth and everything will be destroyed. But I want you and your family to survive, and I want to use you to be the one to protect this lineage. 

So what happens then? Noah starts building his ark. Head down, fully focused on what he felt he was supposed to do, and people were astonished. They mocked him, criticized him even for saying that 1. He heard the voice of God, and 2. That God said he would kill everyone? What a load of baloney! But Noah put his reputation, his ego, even his common sense aside and said ‘nope, I know that’s God’s voice. I’m not wrong’ and he kept going. 

We know what happens from there, lo and behold, God really did speak to Noah, and he really did flood the earth. It rained for over a month straight until everything was covered and all life except what was inside that ark was gone.  And we love to tell our kids this story.. ha! But seriously, what grabbed my attention when I was listening to this part of the story had never stuck out to me before. Maybe because we have all the songs from Sunday school about it raining 40 days and nights. I remembered that Noah used a dove to go and search for dry land. But I had never factored in just how long Noah was on this boat. He had the boat before the rain and everyone laughed. He had the boat during the rain, and the mocking voices were silenced. But he also had the boat after the rain, because the earth was still flooded. Noah, his family, and all these animals were on the ark long enough, for it to seem like normal life at this point. It was not only a token of Noah’s obedience and sacrifice, but it was also a place of safety and refuge. It was home. And you know what happened? 

”Two more months went by, and at last the earth was dry! “Leave the boat, all of you—you and your wife, and your sons and their wives. Release all the animals—the birds, the livestock, and the small animals that scurry along the ground—so they can be fruitful and multiply throughout the earth.”“

Genesis 8:14, 16-17 NLT

God told Noah “leave the boat”. And that ark is never mentioned again. For some reason this hit my heart strings, because I know I’ve heard the voice of the Lord before. Even when people thought I was crazy. And I’ve invested all that I had into what the Lord said, and it became almost my identity. But the day came when it was time to leave the boat. And once you’ve been through all of that, leaving the boat may seem harder to do than building the boat in the first place. The excitement of something new is hardly something to compete with when you look back and see how far you’ve come. 

But Noah left the boat and he made a sacrifice. And the story moves on. And hardly anyone ever talks about it, but sometimes we just need to hear the Lord when he says, “okay, it’s time to move on now” even if the thing you’re moving on from is precious to you. There is so much beauty in letting go. 

So as we go on into this year, I just want to challenge you—has God asked you to leave any boats? 

”For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and a time to harvest. A time to kill and a time to heal. A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance. A time to scatter stones and a time to gather stones. A time to embrace and a time to turn away. A time to search and a time to quit searching. A time to keep and a time to throw away. A time to tear and a time to mend. A time to be quiet and a time to speak. A time to love and a time to hate. A time for war and a time for peace.“

Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 NLT

I’m Just So Tired

It’s been a minute since my last post. I hope you guys have been well. And I hope you’re ready for some more explicit honesty. Surely that’s why you’ve came. I’m going to talk close to home today and tell you the dirt on my own self. You ready?

Here it goes: I. Am. Tired. I genuinely mean that. I normally want to speak super positively. Say I’m fine, move on. But at the core of who I am, I’m downright exhausted. I’m a young mother, married to someone who doesn’t even speak my language over half the time and has very different ways of dealing with his issues. I have a very small support system (it doesn’t exist), my body has been through absolute trauma with child birth and a major surgery back to back, I’ve lost 160lbs in 6 months, I work full time WITH MY CHILD, I’m in school to be a freaking pilot, and I just want to travel the world, explore everything, have my dream home, have 3 more kids, and be happy with my husband but it seems like it’s work work work and little play. Now before you roll your eyes, I KNOW that my life is insane. In 29 years, I have explored the world, lived in different countries, done some amazing things, met some tremendous people, and now I have a beautiful husband and a precious daughter. And how freaking cool is it gonna be when I can have the option to take a plane or a car to the beach? I know, it’s sick. I’m not COMPLAINING. but I am being real.

So many times, we don’t know how to process when we’ve added too much on our plates so we then push ourselves further into stress and do whatever we can to make ourselves look like a badass when we already were. You know what’s really real? Comparison is a freaking thief. I love watching reels for hours at a time too (you know, when I thought it was only five minutes) but you know what? I leave that scrolling session feeling not only unfulfilled, but almost embarrassed. That I didn’t hit another PR in the gym. That I didn’t finish whole30. That I am not in Santorini, Greece right now. That I didn’t go parasailing, or see the sunset over an ocean on an island somewhere. That I haven’t been to this country or that country. That I didn’t see my friends in months. That I don’t have people to watch my kid so I can go on a date with my husband. That my husband doesn’t say he loves me like I see on the reels or the Instagram posts. That I don’t have two kids by now. That I didn’t succeed in my business. That I haven’t finished my private pilots license by now. That I haven’t done this or this or that. God, it never ends.

When are we going to hit the side button on our phones for a minute and let the screen go black, take a deep breath in and be thankful? We are destroying ourselves by trying to keep up with the algorithms and the social pressure when all we were ever expected to do by our creator was to have life and have it abundantly… why can’t we just take a breath, slow down, and enjoy it for a second?!

Your three year old that has screamed all day and you just want them to go away for like 50 minutes so you can take a short nap, is the exact same baby you prayed diligently for. That husband who sasses you when you’re already overwhelmed is the same man that has been the answer to your prayer over and over again and a huge source of joy in your life. That job you hate on a random Tuesday is the exact job you hoped for 6 months ago when you had been looking for weeks on end not knowing how you were going to pay your bills, etc etc. My point is: the same things that are stressing you out right now are the same things you can be overwhelmingly thankful for, you just have to change your perspective.

If you grew up in church, let’s be real—all the sermons are the same so I know you’ve heard this illustration.. you may have someone on the ground trying to harm you, but if you go and get on a plane and you look out the window, that person gets smaller and smaller until you can’t even see them anymore. It’s true. If you are able to recalibrate your way of thinking, you’ll be able to manage that stress a little.

You may still be tired, Lord I am. I got hit back to back with fainting episodes, severe anemia, then a foot injury, then Covid, then some other issues, and I just now feel alive again. But if I slow down when my thirteen month old is acting a fool and I just take 2 minutes to get down on her level and play with her for a second, it makes a tremendous difference for both of us. She feels connected to me and doesn’t have to throw a tantrum anymore, and I remember how diligently I prayed to be able to conceive her and then we’re both able to move forward in that moment.

When my angry little brown man gets an attitude about something again, instead of blowing up and letting it turn into a big fight that will drag on for weeks, I realize that he is human too and has his own emotions. I then separate myself from his anger because usually I didn’t cause it, and I think of three things he has done in the last 24 hours that has really helped me. Talk about a game changer.

And one of the biggest things I’m learning is that when it feels like a huge ball of chaos is trapped inside me… I do something to bring me peace. I journal, or turn on some mantras, light some candles or incense, or I put some freaking Epsom salts in the tub and make myself sit in water so hot my skin almost melts off and I breathe, deeply. I think of things I can sense. I focus on sights, smells, feelings, tastes, sounds… I bring myself back to earth and quit pursuing chaos, and let myself feel peace.

And then I go to bed and I’m able to do it all over again the next day. Because reality is, we all get our moments. I’ll get my sunset in Santorini soon enough. I’ll have another kid when it’s time (but not too soon Lord), my business will grow when I’m able to invest in it, I’ll pass my checkride and be a pilot, we will buy our dream house, etc. and even if we don’t… I’m going to be so freaking thankful along the way and trust that everything I need will be provided when it needs to be.

So take a moment today, let that stress go. Sleep well. Breathe deep. Be thankful. Hug someone today if you can (but don’t be weird, maybe hug your partner or roommate and not someone on the street)

We’re all doing great and we don’t even have to post another reel to prove it.

Peace and love to you, my friend. Thanks for reading, and I wish great abundance to you! Until next time.

TOXIC Traits of The Western Missionary

Let’s be real, I probably got you by the title. But before we begin, I’d like to offer a disclaimer. If you are easily offended, or just hard at it for world missions, then you do you baby. Being a missionary was one of the best times in my life. However, after coming out of that season, I realize I had many things wrong. And if I can voice those things now, maybe it will prevent a greater need for damage control later on.

That’s all I mean by this.

Now let’s dig in.

I’ve trained. I’ve prepared. I’ve fasted. I’ve read the books. Laid my shoes on the altar. Studied perspectives. Cried over the nations. Raised the funds. Saved money in penny jars. Read Operation World every day. Sang all the songs. Worked extra jobs. Read every scripture that could even relate to missions. I lived and breathed it. Couldn’t wait to get my feet on foreign lands and all of that. Yet here I stand, a resigned missionary of three years—nowhere near close to returning to the field. So, what happened to me? How did I go from a DIE HARD MY WHOLE LIFE IS MISSIONS TO… Sitting here now pointing out “toxic traits” of a western missionary while I watch my daughter throw her food in the floor once again?

What is it that makes me feel like I have any right to give that input? Well, because there’s a reason I came home. Simply put, I had a good heart… but in the deepest part of my core, my traits were toxic.

Striving.

Acting like an American Celebrity.

Living with a Savior Complex.

These are the big three that needed to end. And these are the most common that I see on the field both from hosting short term teams and admiring long termers. These are the things that I see catch up with people.

It’s not moral failure. It’s not lack of devotion to God. It’s not even lack of funds. But instead, it is these things that God has to work out of us… and sadly I even see these things taught in missions trainings (hopefully unintentionally). So, for the love of God and all of humanity—seriously… let’s grow in these areas.

Striving.

Webster defines it as “to make great efforts to achieve or obtain something” or to “struggle or fight vigorously.” I describe it as defying the state of rest. Don’t get me wrong I love a good “hustle bustle” moment, but not as a missionary. I won’t get into the juice here surround outside factors (more for a later post)… but to say it simply… no one is expecting you to bust your ass simply because you’re a missionary. I’m not saying don’t have integrity, good work ethic, or be a good servant or all the things you have been taught. What I am saying is, at the core of who you are… you’re also just a son or a daughter learning how to navigate your way through our existence. You don’t have to fight with all your might to get all the answers right, be the listening ear for every single person you have ever seen, or to even make the perfect post on Facebook to prove peoples donations are in good hands. Listen to me, missionary… breathe in… breathe out. Rest. Live in peace. If you want a Bible verse to make you feel better, what about “seek peace, and ensue it.” Ensue… if you’re gonna strive for something (or ensue it) let it be peace. Not perfection.

Okay next. You’re not an American celebrity.

Let me just say… Some people could care less if you’re western, American, or white. While others may be fascinated by you. But be real, you’re probably fascinated by them too or you wouldn’t have raised $3000 to fly across the world to pray for them. The issue doesn’t come in with fascination, but rather with this small temptation to enjoy the attention you’ve never gotten. Odds are, you’ve never had everyone get up for you when you walk in the room. Maybe no one has ever touched your feet in honor. Maybe no one has ever borrowed money from all their friends just to cook you the best food they can make to show you how much they care. But it may happen on the mission field. Don’t dishonor them by throwing their honor to the wayside… but don’t let that get to your head. Short term teams may have less temptation with that… but when you’re out there long term, a nasty temptation is to “let things slip” like ignoring the cultural atmosphere simply because… you’re a westerner and will be forgiven. That’s literally so gross. Let’s stop this.

Lastly, the savior complex.

Okay. This one could tie into the above point but I’m not meaning it that way… what I’m talking about should maybe instead be in regards to conversion. Point blank, if you’re getting on that plane with the sole agenda to convert people… PLEASE march yourself back off. If that’s your intention and you’re on a layover ON YOUR WAY, just change your mind or leave. It’s not worth it. This is DAMAGING. (2011 Danica is shaking in her boots right now SCARED for the souls of these people)

Look. I get it. You’re an evangelical. You think that if these people don’t hear the name of Jesus they are going to hell and YOU could have stopped them if you would have just raised $3k and flown 9000km and hiked up to their village, used a translator, and told them your testimony and gave them an altar call.

First of all, I hope you hear my heart in this… but do you realize how wild that sounds? Why do you put so much belief in your powers and abilities and so little in the power of Christ or God? And side note: if God was going to make those people and send them to hell because they never heard his name, was there really a point in creating them? Seems like a waste of humanity to me.

Gosh, the savior complex is so deep. But I’m gonna keep it pretty surface. If you look at the life of Jesus… he didn’t go around converting everyone and then going to the next town. Jesus made disciples. Sure, people encountered him… but then they followed him. I’m not saying there is no place to share the gospel or pray for people or any of that. But the Bible doesn’t say “go into all the world and convert them from one religion to the next.” It says go and MAKE DISCIPLES.

I’ll leave you with this, I’ve seen just straight up converts. And I’ve also watched them be the most bigoted and wretched Christians I’ve ever met because they were not discipled. It’s a tragedy and no one wants that. The same people who decided to follow Christ because they went to a crusade have lost their families, quit their jobs, and STILL have no discipleship. It’s not abundant life. And it’s SAD.

If you truly feel CALLED to be a missionary… then like I said, you be you. Please obey the voice of God. But please don’t share your toxicity by going to do this great thing and be the hero. The people in that country don’t NEED YOU. Think about it, they have lived their lives for many years without ever hearing of your name and could continue. But if you choose to go, go to ENHANCE their lives. Do good. Love deeply. Bring them honor. HAVE fun. LEARN FROM THEM. And understand that if you want to change a life through your trip, it will likely first be yours… as you get to encounter another aspect of God’s love through meeting new cultures and people.

Hope I didn’t make you too upset… but seriously. Let’s do better, its people’s lives your messing with.

Alright, now that her whole plate is on the floor, it’s bath and bedtime for my girl.

Peace <3

I Got Married On Accident

“Hi sir, we wanted to ask about getting married--can” “—Sure, follow me.”

As we followed this older gentleman into what we both assumed was his office, I turned to Srikanth wide eyed when I realized we had just walked into the courtroom altar. Afterall, why would a volunteer minister have a whole office at the County Courthouse?

Let’s back it up.

Sri has a certain way about him. He’s a call rather than text, and a drop in and visit rather than call kind of guy. So, as we were on our way back from my birthday trip where we took secret engagement pictures for a secret engagement, he decided it would be a good idea to stop by the courthouse to inquire about obtaining a marriage license rather than relying on google, or a phone call.

We were so in love, and so excited to get married and had the perfect plan with only a few details to resolve. Such as who would marry us and exactly when we would get married. So, when we inquired about the marriage license, I did have a specific date in mind to marry the man (as our intention was to marry legally in the summer and have a big fat Indian wedding in India in the fall) but no plans had been finalized. When we got to the courthouse, they mentioned to us that since my ideal marriage date was less than a month away, we could go ahead and obtain the license, so we did.

They then proceeded to tell us about the sweet little volunteer minister who sat in the lobby of the courthouse every afternoon and told us to check with him if he would be available for the date we had in mind. I was pumped, because I love checking things off my list and of course, this would allow us to at least tell my family I was engaged and give me time to get him a wedding ring. But all those plans went out the door when we found ourselves standing hand in hand at the altar with an artificial flower arch above our heads. We looked at each other and asked each other if we were ready. “I am ready only when you are” were the last words I heard from Srikanth prior to “I do.”

In that county courthouse, with no rings and no witnesses, I vowed my life to a man I had met just months before. I promised to love him until the end of time and vowed my respect to only him, only after he vowed the same.

It was unplanned, and perhaps one of the only accidental marriages you’ll hear about that didn’t happen in Vegas. But we celebrate that day today, as we have just completed our third year of covenant.

Was I ready to get married? Perhaps, perhaps not. Did it suck hiding the biggest decision of my life from those who loved me the most? Yes, but also it was a little fun. But do I regret it? Absolutely not.

My husband has a different skin color than me. He was raised on a different continent than me. He must translate everything I say in his mind to comprehend because he has a different mother tongue than me. He is of a different faith. He is an incompatible enneagram, zodiac, star sign, moon sign, and rising. His family would have never picked me, and my family probably would have never picked him. He proposed to me on our second date, and I said no, (and later realized that I didn’t want to live without him.) Basically, nothing about our marriage makes sense. We don’t resolve problems in the same way, he shuts down and doesn’t speak, while I will push doors down and try to make him work it out. He stays calm and reserved, while I have outbursts of rage. He is patient, while I am always trying to determine someone’s next move and come up with scenarios in my head on how to respond to that. He doesn’t let his emotions out, while I can’t help but cry when I even think about my betta fish dying. We are two vastly different human beings who maybe don’t make sense at all.

But it’s working because we are committed to a life together. We do agree on the power of a covenant and choosing one another. We believe in loyalty and being kind. And we agree to really love one another every chance we get. And as our daughter watches us in our marriage, I hope she can learn the beauty of humanity. That no matter how different someone is from you, we are still all made in the image of one God. And when we learn how to really love someone who couldn’t be more different from us, we are learning another characteristic of this all-encompassing Creator.

So today, I honor my husband on what is our third anniversary. It’s been outrageously difficult to let go of mentalities and mindsets that I had a tight grasp on, but in this journey—I have found who I truly am. I am thankful for a husband who pushes me to be who I want to be and allows me to pursue my dreams. If you wrote it all down on paper and asked an expert, we would have never ended up together… but somehow our lives were intertwined, and it’s proven to be the most beautiful surprise of my life and I haven’t had a single day where I haven’t learned something new since marrying this man. It’s truly phenomenal.

So happy anniversary, Srikanth. May we continue to choose each other in the good times and bad. And may we fight to accept each other even when it doesn’t make sense. I’m so thankful you’re my husband.

Emandi, nenu ninnu premistunanu. Eppatiki.

And to all those who are reading, who are we to say what’s good and bad? Why do we feel like everything always has to make sense? If there’s a decision, you’re on the fence about making… go with your gut. Every single action in life will always have a reaction, so you may as well go for it. Seize the day, you have no idea what may come of it. 😉