Welcome back

My car was packed to the ceiling.  It felt strange, this driving away from Mississippi.  It felt permanent in a way the Ethiopia move didn’t.  I didn’t know what was after Ethiopia when I left to go there; even though I don’t have the times and places of my life on a map now, I’m more confident of the general direction I’m headed (now that I say that, watch me make a u-turn).  I’ve put 10,000 miles on Bonnie since she became my car in April; Wednesday I was glad that the driving was (mostly) almost over.  I made it through MS, then LA.  I smiled when I crossed the Texas state line, but didn’t stop for a couple more hours.  When I did, it was at a half gas station/half bbq smokehouse place.  I walked to the restroom past counters stacked with jerky.  I started chuckling in the restroom when I realized what song was playing overhead.
“Don’t break my heart, my achy break-y heart . . .”
I thought to myself, “Yep, you are back in Texas, Sara.”
Oh, but it wasn’t over.  I bought a drink, then headed for the door so Bonnie and I could make it to Dallas.  Just before I left, though, I heard the strains of another song coming over the speakers.
Yeah, heel, toe, docie do
Come on baby, let’s go boot scootin’
Oh cadillac, blackjack, baby meet me out back
We’re gonna boogie
Oh, get down, turn around, go to town
Boot scootin’ boogie

Yes, I’m back.  I think that’s a good thing.  But I’ll let you know.

Another sojourn

I’ve been meaning to write for awhile now. Some days the words well up, but I can never organize them enough to put on paper. My journaling has been scarce the past months–I just don’t know how to say what my soul is struggling through. Do I write about the pain and humor of re-entry stress? (menus in the US are still overwhelming. And Best Buy is horrible.) Or about the inability to reconcile this world with the other one I now know? Or all the crazy miles I’ve driven (10,000) and wonderful people I’ve seen over the past few months? Maybe it should be about my thoughts on the future, or my uncertainty about what it means to not waste my life?

I’m moving to Dallas in two days. This is a really good thing, it’s something I’ve looked forward to–and I’m ready to be there. I’m ready to unpack, to settle down, to establish some roots and some routine. But I realize that moving means leaving–and my heart is already heavy from all the leaving of the past months. When the path in life has a turn, you have to pursue the path you are called to–even when it means you leave things and people behind that you still love. That’s how I feel about Jackson; it’s time to go, but it’s still hard to leave.

I could use a job. Really. This is yet another area I’ve struggled to trust God in . . . no matter how many times He proves otherwise, I still view God through my lens of human interactions. Which means, I expect that this time–even though He’s never done it before–this time He’ll fail me. And I won’t get a job, I’ll be broke, Sarah Jo will have to feed me, and things will be very, very bad. I know, theologically, that God is not like this. God is not like me. God is all powerful, all capable, all knowing, and all loving. The point isn’t really that I should trust that He’ll provide a job, but that I can trust Him regardless of whether or not He chooses to give me a job. His faithfulness covers my unfaithfulness–in that, there is joy

Last week I sat in the Target parking lot, listened to “Great is Thy Faithfulness”, and cried. It just seemed too overwhelming. It was a day that Ethiopia was heavy on my heart. I sat there, and I wondered for the thousandth time how I could go pick out beautiful brand-new house items when some dear friends are struggling to eat.

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;
As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be.
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

My center must continually be re-centered. It is not my faithfulness that will change the world, it is His. And when I am weak and weary and I don’t know what to do and how to help any more, His compassions won’t fail. He has been faithful, and He will be faithful, and I must trust my friends, patients, and co-workers in Ethiopia into His care. He’s the only one who can give strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow. I don’t know how many more Target crying jags I’ll have (I hear this process of re-adjustment can take a year or two or more. Ugh.), and I may never be able to really reconcile the disparities in the world. But Christ can, and will, for He came to reconcile the world to Himself.

I went to church last night feeling all of this weighing me down. And it was a good thing. I needed to be reminded that I am utterly helpless, completely incapable of handling my crazy life on my own. There is only one hope for my life, and for my friend Asnakech’s life. And it’s worth pouring everything out for.

In the cross, in the cross be my glory ever
Till my raptured soul shall find rest beyond the river.