Restless

Finding the ground of which I'm planted upon is shifting. Settling feels like settling and I've witnessed entirely too many people taking that route and being eternally miserable. I don't know what it looks like but I certainly haven't counted anything out. I do actually grow quite tired of this feeling appearing now and then. Being content feels like being complacent. Some days I wish I were able to just sit and be. And I do have moments of that, but there's this itch that won't be scratched in the core of who I am in this place of wondering. I was not built to live life as usual, so I guess in some ways I should stop looking for it. Such a double edged sword for me. A new place doesn't make the old one useless or dull. The new is just that, new. Exciting. It doesn't hold all the answers to happiness but it holds a mystery that may or may not be caught. Are we to always just wonder about these new places and never actually behold them? Are those of us who are restless deemed flighty and non-committal? I don't believe that a constant rediscovering of who we are is a "mid-life crisis". I think it's actually planted in us from conception to be a constant movement of wondering. To want more, discover more, love more, always be more. Reaching the finish line isn't the goal. It's the journey of which we are on to finding that "more".

Dumbfounded

Life takes interesting twists and turns. The last thing I should be saying is that I doubted that God actually answered prayers, but I really did. Not that I doubted his ability to do it, it's just that my prayers are generally so off that I miss the mark by 1000 feet. Someone pinch me because I think God is actually answering prayers in my life. And not the little prayers. I'm talking the big guns. The one's that you keep close to your heart and never really let go of. But if he's not answering them the way I thought he would or is, then I still believe in his goodness and faithfulness. Just because my prayer isn't answered in the exact way I thought it should be doesn't make him any less faithful or good. He doesn't even have to answer my prayers, ever, in order for me to believe these things. He's good. Always working for his daughters best interest at heart. He knew that I was strong enough to climb the mountains that he placed in front of me. He knew that it was going to hurt like hell but that I would, at some point, stand at the top and look at what we've accomplished and be proud. I am a different person because of all the things that I've had to struggle with over the years. But never once did I think that things would circle around again. I hoped, but I never really thought it. Here I am, possibly looking at a long lost dream coming true and I'm dumbfounded. Are my hands out to receive them freely or am I holding back because I'm afraid to try again? Can you do both? Can you try and receive it freely and still guard your heart and still be able to give pieces of yourself because you know that it takes your being vulnerable to open the door? Where's the line? Where's the safe zone? Am I being asked to take a few steps out of that zone in order to see my dream come true? If I did it once, I can do it again. Right? This time, with a better perspective.

Defined

There's this place in my heart that has been shut off for so long and I'm on the verge of opening it up. I'm not sure that I want to open it but there is an undeniable tug that tells me that I'm no longer able to run in the other direction. What lies on the other side of this wall in my heart? I think that's what I'm afraid of. I'm not sure of who is on the other side of this wall.
A few weeks ago I was unpacking my boxes of books and placing them on my bookshelves. One by one I looked at these books that had somehow shaped me into the person I was before I left for India. Someone who was strong in her faith. A woman confident in her relationship with Christ. Someone who had so many things to offer others in her community and across the world. Or so I thought. As I was putting these books away I started to see that I no longer was able to relate to these titles sitting on my shelves. Who I thought I was as a "Christian" has changed 100%. I am no longer convinced that I loved Jesus the way I thought I did just a few months ago. I'm not even certain that I loved him the way I thought I did all these years. Yet, I know that I am safe in him. I love him, but I don't love him the way I thought I had. None of this is a secret to Jesus, of course. He has been well aware of my broken heart this whole time and yet he has stayed true to love me as though I have loved him the way I said I did. While looking at these books and wrestling with the feelings of loss of India, I stood broken-hearted and lost. It occurs to me that I am not who I thought I was and did not return from India with the ability to just live life as usual. I don't know what life is suppose to look like on this side of knowledge, but I can tell you that they way it was lived before will not satisfy. This doesn't mean that I'm going to bury my head in the world of "Christianity" and get lost in the new fads and join the next big thing. The last thing that I want to do is get involved in something that will only allow myself to define my identity in it and not in the one place that it can be defined. It means that I'm not going to follow suit. I'm not going to allow someone elses bullshit to tell me what it means or looks like to be a Christian. The idea of what it looks like to love Christ has been so distorted over the years and I'm tired of it looking like a cookie-cutter. In my search of an authentic relationship, I expect to find myself in a vast desert. I'm not in the search of a new "me" but I am looking for a "real me". One that I can relate to and isn't fooling herself as to the depth of her relationship with her creator. More importantly, someone who is not defined by the hopes and dreams in her heart, but defined by the knowledge of being a daughter.

One day...

Time heals all wounds, right? I haven't taken a lot of time to sit and figure out what my returning to WI really means. Sometimes I think it means more than it ought and then there are times that I think that it should mean more than what I'm allowing it to be. The 4 weeks that I've been "home" I have missed India more and more every day. I LOVE that country. I could have lived there for the rest of my days, if I had only felt that I had a purpose there. If I had only felt that I had the grace to do it. I had to go and learn about myself and the higher than normal expectations I place on things to equal my life's meaning. I learned that things done in another country are not more noble than the things done in one's own country. And as I was being driven through the city on the way to the airport, I was looking out the window at my dream and here I was leaving it. Tears streamed down my face as it made no sense to me that I had to give up something that I craved for so long. What I thought I was going to India for, turns out to not be what I was there for. Another person, place or thing does not equal a purpose.
Home feels good and the future feels free. All in all, I'm happy with what I accomplished in myself. I look to my beautiful creator to make sense of it all in due time. I'm in no hurry to move on to the next "big thing" and I'm enjoying the rest. The past year has been quite the intense ride and I'm ready to get off for a while. I know there are things in my future that God has yet to show me and I look forward to them one day, but today is not that day.

Semi-Sweet

This day, has actually come. Today I made the decision to leave Chennai and travel back to Madison. Nothing really makes any sense at the moment. Nothing but this one thing; I believe I ran as fast as I could into the arms of Jesus and they brought me to Chennai. It's those same arms that are taking me home. I gave all of myself to this dream and I made it. I made it to Chennai, India and I made it my home. I didn't do it all perfectly; I made more than my fair share of mistakes. This is a very bitter sweet day. I love India. I really love it, but this isn't it. Chennai didn't hold the golden ticket to my happiness. Madison doesn't hold it either. I hold the ticket to my happiness and I have to stop trying to find it outside of who God created me to be. I have all of it inside of me and it's not this thing or that thing. It's me.

I'm thankful for grace and love. I have faith that this too will make sense some day.

Justice & Hope

Again with the over emotional ride though the city. From where I'm staying this week to the office, it takes about an hour to get there. Traffic is horrible, but it always is here. Maybe I'm just super tired since I was woken up @ 1:30 this morning by the street dogs outside howling at who knows what! I have 3 dogs that I'm watching and when the street dogs are freaking out, my dogs are freaking out. This went on for about an hour and just when I would drift back to sleep the howling would begin again. And really, who can you be mad at? They're dogs doing just what dogs do; bark at things. Finally I got some to sleep again with all 3 of my giant furry friends kindly tucking me in from every side. Thank God for coffee is what I'm saying!
Any way...I was sitting in the car with Elango, who I adore, and we're making our way to the other side of the city. I'm watching out the windows like I always do because there's ALWAYS something going on. But today I found myself fighting back the tears. I so didn't want to explain to Elango that I was crying because my heart was broken because of what I see every single day. I know this is life here. I know that people are happy and don't need my pity. I know that they don't need our American ways to be happy because it obviously isn't working so well for us either. But there's this piece in my heart that just screams at the injustice of it all. I can't take pictures in the street because it feels like I'm mocking them. I don't want people to look at pictures of what I see every day and feel like I did something wonderful. I'm not doing anything wonderful. I'm am trying to live outside of myself in a land I can't even begin to understand. I'm trying to love someone, anyone, in simple ways. I'm not solving any world problems here, I'm working with a church who is trying to making a difference. I'm supporting a women's group whose vision is so large that you can't see around the whole thing. God didn't ask me to come here so I could do this big wonderful ministry. He asked me to come to get out of myself. To be stretched. To be humbled. To be shaken by things that my heart tells me are wrong. He sees his people here and he is overwhelmed with joy and love for them. They don't see him at all but he sees them.

I don't know that I'll be able to "do" anything here but I can tell you that my heart, if it survives, will have grown so much for a God whose heart is broken for the injustice that happens here. My eyes can only see so much of what he shows me or asks me to see. I can't imagine what the creator of all, sees in this place. My heart is broken and I feel helpless. I feel like I have the tools but I don't know where to dig. I would be happy not "doing" anything here that actually produced a result. I'm OK with planting seeds here and building relationships. My American mindset tells me that I need to justify the money that was given to me to come here by producing something, anything. But then am I ignoring what I'm really to be doing here? Am I missing the big picture if I'm so busy doing? I think so. Missionaries (which I don't like being called) don't just come for a season and then they're done. It's a life long commitment even if they're not living in the country. I don't know what's next on God's list of things to do with me, living in India may or may not be one of them. But my heart will always be tied here. It will always hope for the best for his people. I will never cease to ask for justice in this place.

Simple tea

I'm house sitting for some friends this week and I have been struggling to adjust to the way they live. Not that they live horrible lives but they have a maid who cooks, cleans, does the shopping and the laundry. It's so hard for me to allow her to wait on me like that! The other day she was cleaning and I was in my room reading and she brings me some tea. I was so happy with the tea but I just felt so bad that she was out there working away and I was relaxing. They also have a driver, which I love and hate. I love that I can get around and I don't have to negotiate with and auto driver, but again with the guilt! He waits for me while I go work in the office and he waits for me while I sit and have coffee. He waits outside the house until 6:00 while I'm inside reading or having tea or watching a movie. Ahhhh! It's so hard! I get that this is the culture and this is their job. But it feels like their job is to help me be lazy and like I really need help with that! Today when Elango, the driver, and I got home I tried to tell him that he could leave early but he stayed. I couldn't just let him sit out there reading his book or whatever he had with nothing, so I figured out how to make South Indian tea and took him a cup. His face alone was worth it. He just smiled at me while I tried to explain that I hoped it was good because it was my first time making Indian tea like that. I walked back into the house and I was just grinning from ear to ear. It made me so happy to be able to serve him in some small way. Tea is no big thing really, but hospitality is and that means a lot to Indians. It was just a cup of tea, nothing much at all, but it gave me such joy to be able to give back. I know it sounds simple but it made my entire day. If I do nothing more here than make tea for my driver, it was all worth it.