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.