When we were in Nepal, it was a general consensus among the majority of our team, that we could see ourselves staying for much longer than the six weeks of that trip. We would discuss what the
one item from home you would want to have with you in Kathmandu that you didn't currently.
Relatively early on in the trip, I said that the one thing I wanted to have with me would be my wardrobe. You see, we travelled with backpacking packs, and wanted to be able to easily pack up and get around. When you check into a guest house in Nepal for six weeks, you can expect them to move you around the building a couple times.
But those who know me best, and had to travel with me throughout junior high and high school trips, know that I, 1. have a huge closet, and 2. have the hardest time not packing for
every single potential situation that could ever arise ever ever ever.
Thus, the night before I left, Kayla and I were laying in bed for our last night together as roommates, and I realized I needed to downsize. I ran and grabbed my pack from the living room, and we emptied it, resulting in me taking about half of what I was originally planning on taking.
It was for the best. But it was hard.
At the start, I felt like I had approximately 1% of what I needed. But by the end, the clothes just
did not matter.
So, my original stance? I wanted my wardrobe.
But then I spent an afternoon helping one of Tiny Hands house mothers do the laundry for fifteen children, and I realized I had more clothing at home then a whole children's home of fifteen children, two parents, and a grandmother did.
Convicting? I think yes.
When I arrived home, I was confronted with an unfortunate situation.
Some hooligans broke into my friend's residential garage, broke into my car, and stole my clothes.
You see, when finding places to store all my belongings while I was gone, I figured I would put
everything but my clothes into locked cabinets, but that my clothes would be fine in my huge suitcase in my car.
But, au contraire. Clothing thievery is real, people.
My immediate reaction was anger. Like, who steals clothes? And what the heck do you do with someone else's clothes? Years and years and years of clothes. I guess you sell them at the Sunday swap meet. The city of Azusa is probably clothed in my last 8 years of clothing.
You're welcome.
Friends more than stepped up to the challenge, donating great clothes to my cause. My mom's co-workers even took a collection. They are too kind.
It has been a fun challenge to replace the basics, and do so while being thrifty and looking for things that will last me for the years to come.
Until they're potentially stolen again.
But the basics of this story?
God got rid of a stumbling block, the one thing that
in my mind, would keep me from completely investing in overseas ministry.
So at the end of the day, I have to laugh. Praise Jesus for clothing thievery.
