The Aches of a Heart.

Today is Sunday, February 2nd, 2014.

Five years ago today was Monday, February 2nd, 2009. The day after the Steelers beat the Cardinals in the Super Bowl. That was the day my father died.

It was a day like any other. I went to school, with plenty going on. Scarlet & Gold, the choir I was in, was busy practicing for the val-o-gram fundraiser that we were putting on in a couple of weeks. In physics we were building roller coasters, which was a pretty sweet alternative to homework. Everything was normal.

When I got home from school I took a nap, did some homework, and before I knew it it was dinnertime. Mom had made sloppy joe's for dinner. We hadn't heard from Dad for a while, but I figured he had been out all day working. It wasn't usual for him to be gone until late running errands or doing things for work. Mom mentioned how she hadn't heard from him since lunch, which she seemed slightly concerned about.

A little later Grandpa Gary showed up. Said he also hadn't heard from Dad in a while. Don't worry about it, I told myself. He'll come home. He always does.

Eight o'clock rolls around and I'm on the phone with a close friend from school. We were talking about all the amazing things that God was doing on campus. I was walking around the house as I was talking to her, and I happened to come to the front windows that overlooked the street. And that's when I saw it.

A cop car, with two policemen, was parked across the street. They were getting out of the car. And that's when my heart sank: the worst had happened. There was no doubt about it. I rushed to the front door, hung up on my friend, and answered the door.

"Is your mom here?" the policeman asked. Before I could even turn around to call for her, my mom came flying down the steps. She was in her bedroom, talking on the phone, but she must've been looking out her window as well. She went out onto the front porch to talk with the officers and I recall going to the kitchen. Franticly pacing because I was getting really worried. A few seconds later I heard it.

It was the wail of a woman who had just lost her husband. The wail of a woman whose world came crashing down. The wail of a woman who was incredibly strong. The wail of a woman whose strength was taken from under her. My strength went too, and my world also came crashing down.

Tears. Lots of tears. I called anyone I could think of, anyone who would care. Most people didn't answer their phones. Go figure, I thought. One of my best friends from childhood did answer, but he couldn't understand me through the emotional wreck that I was and told me to call him back later.

My first prayer: "God, I love You. God, I love You. God, I LOVE You." All I could pray, not just on that night, but for weeks. I don't take any credit for this. I can't take any credit for it. I can't take any credit for it because on my own I'm not great. I'm not some amazing superhuman who can handle anything. I'm not some righteous, better-than-anyone human being. I am just like the rest of you. I have fears, doubts, desires, needs, and everything else typical to humanity. All of this to say I can only attribute those initial prayers to the amazing grace of an incredible God.

Everything from that point on was a blur. Dana, my brother's best friend's mom, came over. Told my brother and I to stay home. All I wanted was to leave. I had to see him. I had to see the dead body of my father to believe that he was actually gone. I was sure I was being lied to. I was sure that it was all a joke. This isn't my life, I thought. This can't be my life.

Eventually my Grandpa Gary and Aunt Christine were over. All I remember is embracing them, along with my brother, and weeping. All of us. Exclamations of grief, questions asking where my dad was, hugs trying to make sense of it all. Hugs that seemed to be our only glimpse of hope.

More family came in that night. Grandma Kathy, Papa Steve, aunts, uncles, more grandparents... more and more people came. At one point our house had 30 people sleeping in it. Floors, beds, couches, and anything else one could sleep on were all taken. I barely slept that first night. Maybe five hours.

That first morning I didn't want to eat. In fact, I wanted to starve myself. I already felt so close to the edge of my humanity and life itself; what was a little more pain? Aunt Misty made me eat. I was reluctant, but did so anyways. Figured it was probably good for me. I'm thankful for people like Aunt Misty to have helped me in the little things at that time, such as eating. She blessed me in more ways than she will ever know.

My friend Lydia called me that morning. Stepped out of class after reading the newspaper. It wouldn't have been hard for her to miss. "Kennewick man dies in fatal crash," read the front-page headlines. Seeing the name "Gary S. Conachan, Jr." didn't help either for I also carry my father's name. Answering her call assured her that it was in fact my father who had passed away and not me. Not that it made it any easier.

Grandpa Ron and one of my uncles (I think?--really, it's all a blur) took me to the store with them. We picked up a few newspapers. I read the words on the page, but I wasn't reading about my own life. I was reading about the life of another 15-year-old boy named Gary. A boy who had lost his father in a terrible car accident. I felt terrible for him. What a loss that must've been. Oh, wait. That's me. Numb. I felt numb.

I didn't go to school for two weeks. I missed classes, val-o-grams, projects, homework assignments--I missed it all. But I didn't care. Nothing else mattered at that point. Friends visited and people brought food--SO MUCH FOOD--and consolations. Pastors came with the same. I've never felt more loved or supported than I did in those two weeks. It was truly amazing.

Life had to go on. If we didn't let it, we'd debilitate ourselves and die of hopelessness. So we got up. We chose to fight, to push on. With whatever fragment of strength and will we had left, we moved forward. It felt awkward. It didn't feel right. But what choice did we have? Time pushed us along; we didn't have any say in the matter.

Losing my dad wrecked me. I lost one of my best friends, the one man who understood me more than anyone. I lost a man who loved me unconditionally, no matter what I did or said. We laughed and joked around, sometimes making him seem like the "third child." We did so much together growing up. He truly was a man with a big heart. He was extremely loving, had a gentle spirit about him, and had one of the greatest smiles--if only he'd smiled with his teeth more. Anyone that knew him knows he hated to do so; but he smiled a lot anyways. The funny, quirky things about my dad that I miss deeply.

Over the next five years I went through a lot. I overcame condemnation, a self-hatred rooted so deeply that it debilitated me. Not only did I not match up to others but I felt like I was far beyond saving. I felt like no one cared. My self-esteem was incredibly low. I was a mess.

I doubted my identity. I doubted my manhood, for if my father was the only sense of manhood I'd had to hold onto, what else did I have? Thus began the search for the thing that was within me all along. The search driven by a perceived lack, telling me that I wasn't enough and that I would only be "enough" via things external to me. Thus began a long and painful struggle. Somehow God was present through it all. Somehow God held onto me. I didn't understand it, but God knew what God was doing. God was in control and that was all that mattered; it's all that's ever mattered.

I stand here today, five years after my dad passed away and I'm a little more pieced together. I'm still broken. I've still got many struggles and things I deal with on a daily basis. But things are getting better. Little by little, things are improving. It doesn't mean that I have to fake it--though it's tempting and I have succumbed to it often--or be perfect. I never will be perfect. But I do have the power to be real. I can be authentic to everyone around me. And so I strive to be.

I also strive to find all my security and affirmation in Christ alone. My identity doesn't depend on the affirmation of others nor the amount of Facebook or Instagram likes I receive. (You laugh, but how many of us subconsciously think that?! I know I have!) Encouragement from others is edifying and taken seriously, but it's not the lifeblood from which I live. I say this more out of faith than anything. I want it to be true in my life. I so desperately want it to be true in my life.

God loves each and every one of you.

We don't understand tragedy and we probably never will.

The One we can always trust in is God.

God is always faithful and always in control.

Whatever happens in life, we can always move forward. We can always pick ourselves back up and choose to live for a purpose so much greater than our own. It's not a life of faking it or having to be strong all the time, no; in fact, it's a life that requires being real and honest, both in the good and the bad, admitting your strengths and your struggles, and depending on God and others. God comes first and is our everything. But we're also called to live with each other. We're to carry each other, sharpen each other, and support each other. If there's anything you get from this post I hope you know that there is hope. Trust and believe that there is hope. You are loved and valued more than you may ever know. Live for God's purposes and God's Kingdom and everything else will fall into place. Again, it doesn't mean life will be easy or perfect--in fact, it most likely will be the opposite--but Christ is the Solid Rock on which we stand.

And it is on that Rock that I share my story.

To GOD be all glory.

Goodbye, Maritzburg... hello, Cape Town!

From the last two email updates I sent out. Enjoy! :)

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Sanibonani!

I hope you all are having a great Easter weekend, and a great Easter, too!

It's crazy how fast time is flying by. As of today, we have less than a week left in Pietermaritzburg before we leave our campus for good and travel to other parts of the country. This Saturday we'll leave, taking a week or so to get to Cape Town. That week includes bungee-jumping (next Monday!), sight-seeing, and much more--can't wait!

Last weekend wasn't too exciting, so I won't bore you with the details. I basically spent the entire weekend "relaxing" and working on my term paper for our Community Engagement class (and by "working" I mean putting it off, of course).

We had class on Monday again for the entire day. We spent a little bit of time reflecting on our service sites but mostly talked about the processes that go along with community engagement. Tuesday through Thursday were days spent at service sites. My group was at the creche (preschool) on Tuesday and Thursday, which was much less exhausting than it was the first time we were there. A third of the kids were gone on Tuesday (only 22 or so out of 35 were there) and only 14 of them were there on Thursday due to it being the holiday weekend. Good Friday is a national holiday here in South Africa and a lot of places close down for the occasion. On Wednesday my team did manual labor, though the guy in charge of it wasn't there so we had a hard time not having any explicit directions. We ended up plowing some and pulling weeds, which was fun. We really enjoy doing manual labor! (Not kidding, we really do.)

Friday was an incredible day. We had chapel in the morning, when select students shared about Christ's seven last sayings on the cross. After that our director began the first half of his Revelation seminar (which is tradition for the South Africa semester) but had to cancel the latter half because his wife was in the hospital (she's okay though, nothing too major). After tea time a good number of us walked a couple miles to Flavour Café for coffee and to relax. It's a really nice café with has a nice garden area and a little hole-in-the-wall shop attached to it (like what you'd find in rural areas). We made it back for lunch, after which we had a giant slip 'n slide on the lawn; it was probably the most fun thing we've done as a community so far. After slipping and sliding for a while things got a little crazy and turned into a mud fight, which was also really fun! To wash off we all went down to the waterfall right by our campus, which felt refreshing. We didn't do a whole lot for the rest of the day until after dinner when we watched "The Passion of the Christ". I'd just watched it a few weeks ago, which almost made me decide not to watch it again (I feel you can't watch it too much too soon; it takes quite the spiritual and emotional toll on you); I did though and I'm glad I did.

Yesterday we went back to Victoria's Street Market in downtown Durban. I got some pretty sweet stuff, but for the sake of surprises I won't say what I got since people on this email list could be receiving something. ;) After the market we spent a couple hours at the beach, which was a lot cooler than it had been the first time we went. It was nice to be in the Indian Ocean again for what might be the last time for a while (we might be at the Atlantic when we get to the beach next, i.e. during travel week). 15 of us left early to go to a farmhouse which belongs to some of the guys from the home group a lot of us go to. We had a brie (BBQ), hung out, and played some fun games; it was another good time to relax and enjoy each other's company, especially since we won't be seeing the home group people after this week (since we're leaving Maritzburg).

Today is Easter and not a lot is planned. A bunch of people went to an orphanage but I didn't go since I've been getting over sickness and have a lot to do today. I'll be going to church tonight though, which'll be good. What was cool about today though was that 21 of us hiked to the top of the game reserve (right next to our campus) to watch the sunrise, read the resurrection account, and worship. Waking up early was definitely worth it.

This week we've got our last three days of service sites, Tuesday through Thursday. Thursday's going to be an emotional day; we can only hope that we make an impact on the community and the people we're engaging with, but the truth is that they have an even bigger impact on us. It's going to be tough to leave them. I've heard tomorrow's a community day, probably pertaining to our class. I'm not sure what's in store but it'll be fun, whatever it is! Friday should be a relaxing day as we'll be packing up and getting ready to leave Maritzburg.

As far as prayer requests go:
- Pray for spiritual and emotional strength as we enter our last few days of service sites and leave our campus for good this week
- Pray for continual good health (everyone's pretty much over being sick)
- Pray for unity
- Pray for smooth preparations for what's to come and an easy transition into it

Thanks again for your continual prayer and support--you're a blessing!

Happy Easter! He is risen!

Sala kahle, (Stay well,)

Gary

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Friday, April 5, 2013

Sanibonani!

It's the last time I will greet you in Zulu as we are leaving Pietermaritzburg, the province of KwaZulu-Natal, and the eastern side of South Africa tomorrow morning. This time, it's for good. We finished our Community Engagement class this morning, during which we had our final presentations about our service sites. The video for my own service site, RivLife, should be on Facebook (or somewhere online) at some point. Keep an eye out for it!

Last Saturday we went to Durban, enjoying the market and Indian Ocean for the last time. It was a great final weekend in Pietermaritzburg, full of bries (BBQs) and fellowship.

Monday was a community day, which ended up meaning that we hung out all day. Some of us played volleyball, others relaxed, and we pretty much hung around campus all day. It was great to relax before things get crazy.

Tuesday through Thursday were our last three days at service sites. On Tuesday half of us went to the HIV support group again while the other half ran a holiday club (a kid's day camp sort of thing) at the creche. At the HIV support group we sang, danced, played games, and hung out with the kids there. I made sure to take in every moment as it was going to be one of my last times there. At the end of the day we all came together and began our legacy project: building a toy chest that would soon be filled with new toys for the kids at the creche and drop-in center. We went to the store, bought everything we needed, and took a long time building the chest (we were limited on materials and didn't have the right tools we needed so we didn't get much done that day).

Wednesday we all went to Nomvula's, the woman who runs the creche out of her home and feeds those in her community. There is also a gogo (older women) support group that occurs there. She made us Zulu bread and fat cooks (fried balls of Zulu bread) again, which were delicious! We spent a lot of the time hanging out with the kids there, talking with the gogos, and singing and dancing (as usual!). At one point I tried doing the Zulu dance but fell on my butt in the process, so that end pretty quickly. Haha. We spent the end of Wednesday working on our toy chest some more, though again it took a while, despite the extra tools we'd acquired. Screws were breaking, unnecessary wood panels wouldn't come off, and a lot of us couldn't do much since we were limited on supplies.

On Thursday morning we finished our toy chest, painting it and adding the final decorations. We also used the paint (wall paint, might I add) to paint the chest with our handprints. The downside to this was that the paint was near impossible to wash off and ended up staining our skin. Woops! I was genius enough to put it on my face like a warrior, only for it to start burning and me quickly realizing that that was a terrible idea. Note to self: don't put wall paint on your body! We spent the rest of the morning back at the HIV support group, doing the same things we'd done on Tuesday. This time though we had some of APU's board and staff with us (including our very own President Jon Wallace!), which made it all the more fun. We got to share with the women from the support group and vice-versa, thanking each other for touching each other's lives and making an impact on each other. It was an incredible time to share and I am so grateful we got to spend the time with them that we had gotten to. The rest of the day entailed hanging out with the older kids at the creche who were out of school; the preschoolers weren't around all week as they were on holiday and the creche was closed for the time being. This was sad for all of us as we didn't get to say goodbye to the preschoolers we had grown so close to! We did however get to present our toy chest to the kids whowere there; it was a mad frenzy as they trampled each other to get the toys we'd brought them. Every inch of pavement was covered in chalk, water fights broke out, and one of the balls we had gotten them popped. Overall it was a great last day and I am extremely grateful for the time I got to spend serving at RivLife.

Today and tonight we'll be packing up, cleaning up, saying goodbye to some of our church friends who are stopping by, and enjoying this community for one last time. I can't believe we're leaving Maritzburg already! This place has become our home and I know most if not all of us don't want to leave. But, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. I thank God we get the good times though!

I'm not sure how internet availability is going to work over this last month or so of my time in South Africa, but I should have access. I may not update you as frequently but I'll do what I can! Travel week over the next week includes beaches, hotels, bungee-jumping, interacting with African animals, and much more! Can't wait!

So, for the last time in Pietermaritzburg...

Sala kahle!

Sincerely,

Gary

Me with a kid at the HIV support group

Like Warm Waves Crashing on a Sandy Shore

I look around me and see the waves crashing on the shore. They're bigger than a lot of waves I have seen before; or maybe they just seem bigger because I'm in an unfamiliar place. Two flags mark off a 50-foot section of the shore, between which swimmers have to stay between (shark nets were in place not too far off the shore to keep sharks away). Because the oceans of South Africa, the Indian on the eastern shore and the Atlantic on the western shore, are home to the Great White Shark, swimmers have to be careful. Every few minutes the lifeguard blows his whistle for several minutes to get everyone back in between the flags. This section of shore is between two piers, one of which is closed and the other used by surfers. With surfboards in hand, they jump off the pier and head into the waves. Back on shore, although many are wearing traditional swimsuits, many are wearing normal articles of clothing.

The ocean is warm. It feels cool when I first get into it, but after a while it begins to feel too warm. With the ozone-free, South African sun beating down on me I'd almost rather be in waters as cold as the Pacific. But maybe not--playing in the ocean is a lot easier when the water is warmer. I look behind me and there are buildings everywhere. The beach is located in downtown Durban, an eastern port city in South Africa. I look around and take in the sun, the waves, the people, and everything else that surrounds me. I can't help but feel especially grateful for I do not deserve to be in a place like this. It's a wonder that God can bring someone so far in life. His power is endless and there is no limit to the things He can do. The beach reminds me of this.

Before we went to the beach we went to an indoor market, which was a sense overload. The smell of various spices filled the entire building. If you slow down even slightly as you walked through the market, merchants would be on you in an instant. "Would you like to try this on?" "This costs forty rand." "Where are you from?" Millions of questions are thrown at you. Being alone is out of the question; you're either with friends or merchants; or both.

The market we went to was the cheapest place to purchase souvenirs at in all of South Africa; what a buy! I won't say what I purchased for I don't want to ruin the surprise for those I got something for, but I got a lot for what I spent!

Today, February 2nd, marks four years since my dad passed away. And doing what I did today was the best thing I could have done. Being surrounded by 52 people who have shown so much love and support towards me as well as each other is a tremendous blessing. We did an activity last night called Cross the Line which told us a lot about each other. We want nothing but to support each other and seek God together--it truly is an amazing group! Needless to say today has been incredible and my cup has overflowed with joy and peace. God is too great to not be happy today! My dad is in Heaven and free from all pain and struggles; I could not be more grateful for it, considering that he is not on earth anymore. This is not to downplay grief or to say that it is not okay to be sad (because it is!) but rather to share how I have been feeling today. God's grace is more than enough.

We're venturing into our third week of classes next week, which means we are one-third of the way done with intensive classes (aside from our history class, which continues for a while longer).

I have felt a freedom here that is irrefutable; God has spoken some deep truths and as I said before our group has gotten tremendously closer over the last couple days. I am so grateful for them!

It is crazy to think that we are only two and a half weeks into our semester here--it feels like it has been over a month, at least! It is strange how quickly relationships happen here; we are also doing a lot every day so it makes one day seem like several. I like to say that college is like Narnia; time in college does not work the same as it does in the real world. Six months in the real world is like years in college. Or something like that.

And that concludes week two.

TIA

One hour. Literally crazy.

It's 1:45 a.m. as I write this. In a little over an hour I'll be meeting up with the rest of my team (I guess that's what they're called) to go to the airport. Shuttles will take us to LAX, we'll spend however long checking in and going through customs, and then our flight will leave at 7:30 a.m. We fly from Los Angeles to D.C., then to Johannesburg, South Africa with a stopover in Senegal (in West Africa). It's all so weird. So weird.

Today was unreal. We had orientation from 8:30 to 2:30, which was all-around strange. It got me excited for Africa but at the same time made me extremely anxious; it wasn't a bad anxious, just... anxious. That feeling of being in anticipation, of being in waiting. Our commissioning service was at 4:30, which was overwhelming but so good. Because I'm attending a university significantly far from home, my family couldn't make it to the service; having a myriad of college friends nearly made up for it though. You generally don't realize the love and support that you have until something like this happens. "You never know what you've got until it's gone" could not ring more true. My appreciation for APU and my friendships here has grown, and I can only hope that I've left some sort of impact in my short year and a half here so far. I'm grateful to have two more years after this. But for now... Africa. That's my focus.

Although I can somewhat pinpoint the ways in which I want to be changed, I have this feeling (and I've been told) that my expectations will be blown away; I'll be challenged in ways that I won't expect. I will grow in ways that I do not see coming. But for that I cannot wait.

There's nothing like the semi-awkward initial interactions you have with people. As I walked into the venue where our orientation was held and looked around at the 50 or so people that I will be spending the next four months of my life with, I said, "This is it." I've heard nothing but amazing things about the people I'm going with. To experience it for myself, though, is one of the many things I am excited for. To no longer simply hear about the people I'm going with but to experience it first-hand. I feel blessed already.

One hour and seven minutes. Definitely not getting sleep tonight. But that's okay. 26 hours on a plane will provide plenty of time to sleep. It's gonna be a crazy trip!

Well, here we go! Goodbye America, hello Africa.

Hello, Africa. Woah.