What 4 Days Out Looks Like
4 days. 4!
Always at this point in the journey I hear a voice in my heart saying, "I am not unprepared for this."
He has prepared me well. Anointed me for such a time as this.
The to-dos and packing lists and shopping lists and last-minutes are there, looming, but my sanity is still intact. It's all doable. I should've started these things a week ago, but still...doable.
This summer has been about letting the dirt settle and the water become clear. Resting from the good things. Getting lost in pastimes, songs I love, dirt trails, and iced coffees. Finding truth in lyrics instead of thick books. Talking to God in my car. Eating at the farmers market. Running along to new playlists. Simplicity.
I suppose this is what a Sabbath season is like. And after the past two summers and three school years, it's much needed.
But I miss speaking Russian and hearing it and being in the thick of it all. In the middle of all the work, heartache, effort, pain, joy, and love that makes your heart hurt. I miss the way God is to me when I'm in the middle of it. I miss the discoveries and paradigm shifts and Kingdom-perspective. I miss the struggle, some days. Going through the struggle and getting to the completion at the end makes me believe in life more. This makes so much sense to the athlete in me. I think it applies to everything.
Off my soap box now.
I sorted the orphan clothes donations this mornings. Last week, some dear friends of mine prayed over the clothes with me, and in that moment I felt like what I'm doing is important. Often I feel broken because of how incredibly insufficient this is. All of it. Putting on camps, bringing craft supplies, even bringing clothes for the orphanage. So insufficient. So not enough. And yet in those occasional moments, when I can honestly say my whole self is invested in the small part I'm playing, I feel like God is faithful to complete it for me. To somehow weave my story, my efforts, into a bigger tapestry and a bigger story of other efforts, and bring it together in the end to save some lives. Literally or metaphorically.
I could be overly emotional right now, but there's this tiny blue hat in the clothes donations, and every time I look at it I think of the little heads I know that could fit inside it, and I get chills. I don't know what this trip will hold. I mean, I know I'll be teaching 50 kids about Jesus' miracles, but that's all I'm sure of. And the fact that it's so crazy short makes me antsy. So today I'm just praising God for the chance to go back to Dombai and hear Russian and talk to the small people in the pictures below. And make new memories and find new places and learn new words. Who knows what He'll do?
Always at this point in the journey I hear a voice in my heart saying, "I am not unprepared for this."
He has prepared me well. Anointed me for such a time as this.
The to-dos and packing lists and shopping lists and last-minutes are there, looming, but my sanity is still intact. It's all doable. I should've started these things a week ago, but still...doable.
This summer has been about letting the dirt settle and the water become clear. Resting from the good things. Getting lost in pastimes, songs I love, dirt trails, and iced coffees. Finding truth in lyrics instead of thick books. Talking to God in my car. Eating at the farmers market. Running along to new playlists. Simplicity.
I suppose this is what a Sabbath season is like. And after the past two summers and three school years, it's much needed.
But I miss speaking Russian and hearing it and being in the thick of it all. In the middle of all the work, heartache, effort, pain, joy, and love that makes your heart hurt. I miss the way God is to me when I'm in the middle of it. I miss the discoveries and paradigm shifts and Kingdom-perspective. I miss the struggle, some days. Going through the struggle and getting to the completion at the end makes me believe in life more. This makes so much sense to the athlete in me. I think it applies to everything.
Off my soap box now.
I sorted the orphan clothes donations this mornings. Last week, some dear friends of mine prayed over the clothes with me, and in that moment I felt like what I'm doing is important. Often I feel broken because of how incredibly insufficient this is. All of it. Putting on camps, bringing craft supplies, even bringing clothes for the orphanage. So insufficient. So not enough. And yet in those occasional moments, when I can honestly say my whole self is invested in the small part I'm playing, I feel like God is faithful to complete it for me. To somehow weave my story, my efforts, into a bigger tapestry and a bigger story of other efforts, and bring it together in the end to save some lives. Literally or metaphorically.
I could be overly emotional right now, but there's this tiny blue hat in the clothes donations, and every time I look at it I think of the little heads I know that could fit inside it, and I get chills. I don't know what this trip will hold. I mean, I know I'll be teaching 50 kids about Jesus' miracles, but that's all I'm sure of. And the fact that it's so crazy short makes me antsy. So today I'm just praising God for the chance to go back to Dombai and hear Russian and talk to the small people in the pictures below. And make new memories and find new places and learn new words. Who knows what He'll do?
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