Late night reading always gets me into trouble. I start looking at old emails and it stirs the emotional pot and the outcome is never predictable. I was looking at emails sent and received during the India departure decision and the immediate landing and what came over me was a sense of nonrecognition. Even reading the conversations had while in India, I do not know that woman who wrote to those people. I don't believe she's long gone, but I don't know how much of her came home. Don't get me wrong, there are pieces of her that I'm happy to be rid of, but there are some that I wonder how long they'll be missing or if they'll return at all. Still the quest for truth stands alone in my late night observation. Truth in what I believe, truth in my identity, truth in the relationships that complete my circle and truth in where I'm standing. There are pieces of me that would like to apologize to those that I have alienated and pushed away. But by that same desire, I stand in the knowledge that I did not like who I was and I'm not willing to pick those pieces up and try to make them fit the broken picture frame. Most of what I refuse to pick up again is the denying of myself the space and permission to be broken and the 'mob' mentality. Christianity doesn't mean following the popular thing because everyone else is doing it. It doesn't mean riding every new train coming into town. To me, it's simplicity and truth. It's finding that space that makes the relationship between you and your creator intimate and unique.
June 29, 2011
I just ran into this post after a random look at old files. I almost winced at the sight of these words. Who was this woman who wrote this? What happened to her? Where did she get lost? And I can say this much; she survived the most intense two years of her life and is standing on the victorious banks of that raging river of life. These last two years have been anything but honoring and steadfast. I have made every mistake you can make when running away. Trying to cover scars that cannot be covered and can only be masked. I didn't want to rip the band-aid off the wounds that I had created. I didn't want to go down that path of yet another self discovering season. I wanted to feel better. I wanted results! I wanted tangible proof that I was alive. I grabbed every numbing agent I could get my hands on and it is only by the grace of God that I am standing here. And I AM standing here! The RD version of my time in India is this...it was not what I thought it was going to be. I was told that would be able to do things and I was not. I wasn't able to accomplish what I thought I was sent to do, but I went. I put my feet on the ground. I gave up everything to follow after God and I don't regret one single second. India is a part of my heart. It is in my veins and flows through me like an energy source. I cannot cut India from the fibers of my heart! I have been trying for two years to amputate this place from my life and I have been functioning as a wounded soldier. I have not worn my love for India as a badge upon my heart. I have not carried the faces of those I met with me every day. I think of them often, but I have allowed the etching to fade. But, it is beginning to come back. In the past few weeks, my heart has been reconciled and wounds have been healed and my heart has been repaired. Shame is not my name and I am not to wear its heavy cloak and hide the beauty that I have been given. My God is faithful, even when I am not. I pushed, shoved, slapped and yelled over the last two years and He took it all. He took the blame for what was not his. He didn't try to give me answers for the questions, he let me find my way...my way. I would stare him in the eyes and know that I was breaking his heart and I would apologize and continue on with my chosen sin or coping mechanism. And I would run to him and beg for forgivness and turn around and do it again. The cycle continued for too long and the damage done, although minimal, still haunts me. What kept me safe these past months is the solid truth that I am loved no matter what. It doesn't give me the right to continue my sins, which damage me more than I can even conceive. I know more than I know anything else, that I am loved and nothing can ever seperate me from that love.
So I've come full circle, it seems. Not completely unscathed, but I am far less damaged than I could have been if I wasn't covered in the grace and mercy of my creator.
I have allowed myself to dream about my life for the first time since I've come home. It feels good to have the wind blow through my soul again. I'm excited for the future and I am anxiously awaiting for the next adventure.
