bleeding

Tonight the stab of injustice, pain, and brokenness is piercing.

I got word that another project beneficiary died.  She left behind a daughter who, of all children, most desperately needs her mother.  I wonder how she will eat, move, breathe, live.  I fear she will not.  I fear the force of death which stole her mother.

I know that we are supposed to look ahead, to see the resurrection at the end as our hope for this world.  But I can’t see ahead right now–I can only imagine a little girl 10,000 miles away who is utterly defenseless.

I know if I were there right now I couldn’t stop the horribleness of this.  But to be here and to know that I can do nothing–absolutely nothing–is beyond hard.

the path to fullness of joy

” . . . all our dreams of human happiness must be surrendered . . . to the one supreme aim: the glory of God, which always leads in the end to more than happiness-to fullness of joy, pleasures forevermore.

Acceptance of the will of God is always a simple thing, though . . . it is often not an easy thing.

The itch to know and to have and to be anything other than what God intends me to know, to have, and to be must go.”

-Elisabeth Elliot, A Path Through Suffering

I copied that excerpt into my journal many months ago, and just reread that entry.  How quickly I forget, how quickly I become comfortable in this world of Starbucks and pretty things, how quickly my mind and heart long for “human happiness” above all else.  To daily learn to follow the hard thing–that is the task.  But the task will end in JOY, fullness of joy, when HE is glorified.

And Sarah Jo and I found a Dallas abode!  Another instance of His grace and willingness to give us small happinesses, while always calling us to live life for real joy instead.

Not together

The last time I balanced my checkbook, I think I was 17. Seriously.

I’m looking around at a mess, and feeling messier inside. Around me I see half-packed boxes, half-unpacked suitcases, piles of bags and clothes and papers. The disorganization frustrates me, but really points to a deeper soul disorganization. I do wish I balanced my checkbook (sort of), but even more, I wished I lived better. I wish these transition months weren’t so yucky, that I had a better attitude, that I grew and learned through them more.

I’ve actually written a couple of posts in the time since I’ve blogged, but I haven’t been bold enough to post them. Words can belie what we can hide in our faces . . . and sometimes “we’re most of us stories we’re scared to explain” (Ellery)

I’m thinking October will be good. In my (fairy tale?) dream, most everything will be more settled then and I’ll have a rhythm and routine of life, school, work, church, and community. Either that, or I’ll need to be banished to a desert island.

I’m looking forward to this next season; I’ve not by any means moved past the pain of leaving the last season, but there will be sweet joys ahead. Living with Sarah Jo, finding a new community of co-laborers, growing in my knowledge of medicine, running outside, having Friday night cousin dinners, finding the nearest hole-in-the-wall Ethiopian restaurant, volunteering at a community clinic . . . I know so much of this is ahead, yet still my faith is frail. He’s never failed me, but somehow I doubt that God can or will bring these things about in my life. I’m so grateful that my faith, and God’s provision, is not dependent on how I feel in the midst of this current chaos.

“I’m lookin’ forward to lookin’ back on this day.”

Over the Rhine