When the Heart Waits

"That's the sacred intent of life, of God - to move us continuously toward growth, toward recovering all that is lost and orphaned within us, and restoring the divine image imprinted on our soul. And rarely do significant shifts come without a sense of our being lost in dark woods. . ."

- [Sue Monk Kidd, When The Heart Waits]

The way I tend to describe how I'm feeling, is comparing it to being in the middle of a fog. When there's fog, you can't see very far in front of you, and it makes you feel anxious and sometimes a little panicky. And you know that eventually the fog will lift, but for the time being, your stuck in a fog and it's disorienting and confusing. And being stuck in a fog, well, it sucks. And it's not as simple as waving your hands and it all dissolves away. I wish it was. 

"[my husband] wanted me to 'snap out of it'. I did too, of course. I had ordered myself to do just that numerous times. But it was sort of like looking at an encroaching wave and telling it to recede. Demanding didn't make it happen." 

When I read that last paragraph in Kidd's book, I felt like I was reading something that could have come out of my own journal. I have tried so many times to just "snap out of it." I've had people tell me to just move on. I've told myself to just move on. I've told myself to let go. Sooo many times. But it has yet to really make anything happen. I feel like there are a lot of people around me who have expected me to move on by now. And are disappointed that I haven't. And I really don't know what to tell them. It's not that easy. Healing and resting and waiting on God. . . isn't the process I thought it would be. And that's ok. 

Yesterday I called my friend Isaac from Macas. He's the one who runs the orphanage. He told me he's returning to Riobamba in January. And I talked with him some about my coming home, and what that's been like. I didn't have a chance to even say goodbye to him or the kids, along with many other friends, so we haven't talked for some months. He had many encouraging and affirming things to say, including the importance of laying down my anxieties and thoughts at the foot of the Throne. He says returning to Riobamba isn't exactly something he would like to do; it's hard to pick up and move all the kids and to leave Macas, what with all the gossip surrounding why he's leaving, according to everyone else. But in reality, he needs to surrender it all to the LORD, because God has called him back to Riobamba. I don't know if I did justice to just how encouraging this conversation was to me, but it meant a lot. Isaac was someone I got to know very well in Macas, and was one of maybe four people I could talk with in english. I loved getting to visit with him and the kids at the orphanage, and he always reminded me so much of my brothers. I think they would be great friends if they met. I know he has become a very great friend for me. 

I miss my ñaña

I really miss Ivonne lately. I always miss all of my friends and the people that I love so much from Ecuador. It's hard being away from all of them. But lately, it's been especially weighing on my heart how much I really love my sister and how much I miss her. 

I called Ivonne tonight and this was what the first few minutes of our conversation were like:

me: "hooooola ñaña!!" 

Ivonne: "Ali, where am I?"

me: "uh. . . . what?"

Ivonne: "guess where I am!"

Me: ". . . somewhere in Macas. . . "

Ivonne: "[laughing] But what can you hear"

me: [pause] Oh!! You're at the river!!"

Ivonne: [laughing again] yes!! " 

Me: "Are you going swimming at 11 o clock at night?! Are you crazy?! I can't leave you alone for five minutes. . ."

Ivonne: "I know, I know. But don't worry, I'm not swimming. just on a walk with Fernando."

me: "ooooo, FerNANdo!"

Ivonne: "oh no, there's a huge truck going over the bridge and it's shaking! I think it's going to break!!"

Me: "WHAT?!"

Ivonne: "[laughing] just kidding!! Nothing's happening."

The rest of the phone call was pretty much the same: lot's of joking around and laughing sooo hard. And that was what things were like when we were together. We always could make each other laugh and smile, even when we were tired or unhappy or in tears. Well, during the moment of tears we'd hug and pray and then whoever wasn't crying would say something witty to make the other one laugh. :) 

I think it's so great how Ivonne and I became instant friends. The very first night I was in Ecuador, when we were in Quito, we talked most of the night in our hotel room. Skipped the awkward and went straight to the we're-practically-gonna-be-sisters!! feeling.  In the next couple of days, we went to see Batman together and went on my first ever ice skating excursion, went walking around Quito, talked forever and laughed until my stomach was hurting and Ivonne's eyes were watering. I asked her what some Quichua words were that I should learn, and she told me that "ñaña" means sister, and from that day on we always call each other ñaña. 

I just miss her so much. I miss getting to pray together. I miss our mornings together reading in the Word and talking about what we thought. I miss her hugs and I miss her facial expressions. 

I miss my ñaña. Phone calls can only do so much. 

sleep. . .?

I can't sleep lately. I don't really know why. But every night when I try to go to bed, I end up tossing and turning then trying to read a book and still am not able to fall asleep. I keep looking at the clock and getting frustrated at what time it is and the fact that everyone else in the house has been sleeping for hours, and I'm still awake. Ugh. 

I don't want to take sleeping pills because I'm afraid of dependency, but I wonder if I tried for a week and see if things got any better. . .? 

I'm tired of not getting to go to sleep. That's such an oxymoron.