Thursday, August 7, 2008

Six more airports 'til I see your face.
I keep your picture in my passport, but it's not the same.
Still there's joy in this sadness; in my heart and in this place.
In the hope of the longing, the tears cannot erase,
and I'm hoping that you're sleeping ok.
I miss you...I miss you...I miss you...
-Caedmons Call

Some say joy in the sadness, others say bittersweet, I say buy me a one way ticket to go back.

No, but really, although I would love it more than anything to go back, to hold my children once again, to laugh with Johnson, to be laughed at for not being able to stomach the spices and not being able to eat with my hand very well, to hear Dihvya sing sweetly in my ear, to be called sister, and to be surrounded by the mountains, windmills, and coconut trees, I am trusting with all that I am that the Lord is taking better care of them than I ever could.

It's fair to say, though, that the tears have been abounding lately, and I have to admit every night when I go to bed I think about what the children are doing or what the staff is doing and I pray that the Lord would encourage them in a new way that day, that He would comfort those who are feeling lonely, and that He would give the staff strength and patient endurance as they love the children.

The hole in my heart that I have experienced in these past three and a half weeks is nothing I have ever experienced before. The way I am more aware of how present the Lord truly is in all of our lives each and every day is something I never have experienced here in the states quite like this. And on the opposite end of that, I am now so much more aware of darknesses that are present here in the states rather than just thinking the only places darknesses are truly prevalent is in third world countries where they aren't classified as "Christian" nations.

I don't think we really realize how privileged we are to be able to walk to our refrigerators or pantries and see an abundance of food staring back at us. I don't think we realize how privileged we are to be able to sleep on comfortable matresses with pillows and blankets. I don't think we realize how privileged we are to not be under constant persecution for our faith. I don't think we realize how privileged we are to have money in our bank accounts. I don't think we realize how privileged we are to have closets and dressers full of clothes. I don't think we realized how privileged we are to brush our teeth every morning and night with a toothbrush and toothpaste. I don't think we realize how privileged we are to have love marriages. I don't think we realize how privileged we are to have brothers and sisters in Christ living all around the world or right down the street. And I don't think we realize how privileged we are to be serving a God who doesn't need to use us to reach others for him, but yet He chooses to use us anyway.

As much as I would love to hear the voice again of the children, I am so thankful that the God who transcended all cultural and language barriers while I was in India is going to continue transcending the new barrier of distance between my sisters and brothers in Christ and myself.

And as my eyes well with tears, I pray that the Lord would continue teaching me what it means to entrust people into his care, to extend grace, to love boldly, for faith like a child, and to break my heart for what breaks his.

May we all be on the lookout for the ways He wants to use us even if it means stepping out of our comfort zones and for the divine appointments He has set up for us in advance. And may all of us not only be able to say, "Abba, I love you," but also, "Abba, I trust you with all that I am."

1 comment:

stacey said...

liz, i want to run back! i want to go right now...oh, my heart aches so badly. thanks for your words. i know you are right there going through it beside me and it makes it a bit easier. i love you, sister, and am so thankful to have experienced God's goodness in india with you.