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. 

Love is here

Come to the water, you who thirst

and you'll thirst no more

Come to the Father, you who work

and you'll work no more

and all you who labor in vain

and to the broken and shamed

Love is here

love is now

love is pouring from His hands, from His brow

love is near

it satisfies

Streams of mercy flowing from His side

Cause love is here

Come to the treasure, you who search

and you'll search no more

Come to the Lover, you who want

and you'll want no more

And to the bruised and fallen

captives bound and broken hearted

He is the LORD

He is the LORD

By His stripes He's paid our ransom

From His wounds we drink salvation

He is the LORD 

He is the LORD

Love is here. 

When I got to visit Tifani in Colorado, she gave me the Tenth Avenue North CD, and this is the first song on the CD. I've listened to it constantly since then. And I'm continuing to be reminded just as whoever the guys that wrote this song were, that my God is here. His love is here. Not it's coming, or hang in there for just another sec, you've got to wait it out a little longer. His love remains. 

I am being held and I am being healed. I can feel it and see it all around me. That's not to say that it doesn't still hurt sometimes. But I can't let my desire for instant gratification affect my trust in the LORD. He is the Healer, and he has promised me this. So I put my trust in that, and I have to remember to hold onto that Truth.

"The LORD your God is with you, He is MIGHTY to save! He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing." [Zephaniah 3:16-17]

And Josh, I think your words echo what so many others have been encouraging me and strengthening me with. But since you put it in writing, I hope it's ok if I put it here. It gives me so much strength. :) 

"Ali, you've got to read some missionary bios, it will give you some great perspective. . . it's what I often do. The road you're on, most never make it. Those who do, have been broken and rebuilt to withstand the innumerable bumps and challenges along the way. I believe God's in the process now of making you into someone He can use in big ways around the world. We're not born that way and it doesn't only happen when we're 0-18. God is making someone He can use and He often uses many of the ingredients that are currently present in your life. If something like this knocks you off the path, you weren't going to make it very far anyways. If it doesn't. . . THEN. . . you're much closer to experiencing God's best for you than you were 2 short months ago, and you just might have what it takes. We're still figuring out if I have what it takes. . . this isn't coming from one who has it figured out. . . no. . . one who is figurING it out. You rock, Ali. Don't give up." 

Thanks. I can't thank all of you enough, who have loved on me, encouraged me, urged me forward, and challenged me throughout my time here. Thanks for being used by Him to be a blessing to me. I love you all. :) 

why

Lately I just want to ask God why. I don't just want to ask, I want Him to really answer. Really. Because it feels pretty unfulfilling right now to hear someone say if I just have a desire to serve, He will send me. I had that desire, I have had that desire, and I'm home right now. Why did I even go just to be hurt in coming back? It's not even like I'm sad in coming home at the end of the year. . . I'm just wounded and I don't know what to do with myself. I don't know what happens next, and I just feel like giving up. 

Why? 

Lost. . .

I just bought the book "The Shack" today. I read about two chapters of it a few days ago when I was visiting my friend Leah, and today while I was at the airport and was sitting staring at the Powell's across the way, thought I might as well go on over and see if they have it in stock and if it's at a reasonable price. I kept thinking of the book since I read it. The fact that the main character is going through what he continues to describe as "the great sadness" sounds fairly close to what kinds of emotions I am struggling through right about now. So I found it at the Powell's in the airport, and it was reasonably priced and I purchased it. And I read it, the whole flight. There were a few parts that brought tears to my eyes, but the part that really struck me was here:

"Jesus?" he whispered as his voice choked. " I feel so lost."

A hand reached out and squeezed his, and didn't let go. "I know, Mack. But it's not true. I am with you and I'm not lost. I'm sorry it feels that way, but hear me clearly. You are not lost."

A few short sentences that embody my thoughts and hurts, and a message that only Jesus truly can share: I'm with you and I'm not lost, therefore neither are you. 

I may feel lost. . . but Jesus isn't lost. 

"This I know: God delights in you!"

"This I know: God delights in you! The enemy will not shout in triumph over you!" - Psalm 41:11

I feel like the past week has been the craziest of my entire life. It has been a tidal wave of different emotions. I have cried more and harder this past week than I think I may have cried in my entire life. And now that I'm home and sitting in my bedroom, it feels so surreal. It almost feels like I wasn't even gone. Like the past two and a half months never even happened; it was all just a dream. 

I went from feeling completely broken, lost, abandoned and hopeless wednesday night to feeling at peace in my heart and trusting with all my might that this was what I was supposed to be doing to follow God's leading; it is well with my soul. 

wednesday night, after the not so easy choice was layed out to me of either staying in Macas and following certain restrictions in my ministry or going home (for good), I had no idea which to choose. It was NOT that easy. And I cried out to God and asked Him how in the world could I make a choice, knowing either one did not involve the full measure of joy that Jesus wants me to have [John 17:13] in this life and especially relating to this ministry He has called me to. Either I stay in Macas and be held in chains by legalistic restrictions that immediately bring my mind to passages about the Pharisees in the Bible, or I choose to go home and murder my heart by having to leave the kids at the school, the families, my discipleship group girls. . . I didn't even know how to pray for discernment for such a decision. But I tried. I told God how much this hurt. How much I hated that this was the circumstance I had been put in. How I didn't understand how I could be expected to make a choice that day. And in all my time of prayer and crying, I did not hear God lead me to a choice. I heard Him say "ask for a week. Go home for a week."  And as I continued to pray and think about actually going back for a week, I felt continual confirmation that this was what God was asking me to do in obedience. 

And so, the next morning I called the mission organization and I asked. And before I asked, they spoke to me in a way I never thought such an organization would speak to a person. They talked to me about my age and lack of experience; they talked to me about my maturity level solely being based upon my age; they talked about my lack of commitment to the ministry. And in my tears that came, I begged that they would just let me have a week to be home with family and friends to clear my head and to pray and seek the LORD in all of this. I knew this to be wise, and they saw it as a cop out. And so they let me know that they would allow me to go home, but the decision was no longer mine whether or not I would be coming back at the end of the week. I would be getting a phone call later that week. It was a hot knife right in the heart. But even still, I had to be obedient to the only thing that I truly felt God's prompting towards in the situation. And so I accepted their terms in my leaving and bought my plane ticket for the next day. 

And, to my enemy's delight, I started to believe them. That I had made a mistake. That I had messed up. That I had lost sight of the vision. That I was coping out. That I was immature and that my lack of experience obviously meant lack of wisdom. And I started to feel hollow. And I started to feel like a failure. 

After the conversation with the mission organization, 10 of the girls from the third grade class came running into my room bawling. They swarmed me and hugged me and cried "Señorita Ali, no te vas! Por favor, no te vas! No nos dejas, Por favor!" Which, for those who need a translation, means don't leave. Please don't leave us. And I cried with them. Because it broke my heart, and I did NOT want to leave them. And my heart ached sitting in that room holding all of these little ones, my shirt wet with their tears. 

But the LORD cannot be mocked. He does not leave His precious children to be held captive in chains and lies brought and placed by the enemy. Oh no. My God is MIGHTY to save. And all of those lies that I had started to believe, He tore down and instead showered me with His TRUTH in the next 24 hours before I left Macas. Even in that moment in the classroom that was so unbearable with all of the girls crying, God showed me just how much I was able to love on them in the short time I was there. 

These girls had been planning a party for my birthday to be held on the actual day of my birth, but in learning about me leaving, their teacher encouraged them to move plans to that day (thursday). And so they went quickly to work with rearranging to prepare things for that afternoon. And at 4, they came into my room and told me to cover my eyes as they walked me outside to the cafeteria. I was expecting maybe the ten girls who planned the party and then a little cake (they had told me they bought one) and some soda, but what they actually did moved me to tears. When I opened my eyes, there were probably over 30 kids from all different grade levels in the cafeteria. And they had decorated it with streamers and balloons. And they had combined tables that was almost the whole length of the cafeteria, and it was COVERED with food, candy, sodas. . . and the most beautiful birthday cake I have ever had. And all of this the students had bought with their personal spending money. Edison told me he had never seen them attach so quickly to anyone the way they attached to me. And as they all shared about why they loved me,  hugged and kissed me throughout the afternoon, I just felt such reassurance from God that yes, I had been used by Him to do great things in the lives of these kids, just as I had hoped. 

And that evening I was invited over to a student's house for dinner where I had the most uplifting conversation with her mom. Her mom told me she wasn't really a big fan of mission organizations; they tend to put "God in a box" with rules and regulations, assuming He cannot work outside of this box and not giving Him the chance. She shared with me stories of some of her favorite missionaries that were disowned and disagreed with my mission organizations, but pursued with ruthless trust in God and overcame to do AMAZING work for the LORD without being under any organization. She said that although I may have been labeled a rebel by the organization, these people had been to. And they are considered some of the greatest servants of our Heavenly Father to this day in the mission world. 

The next morning was by far, one of the greatest ways that God spoke to me and comforted me through His people. The girls in my discipleship group I started had quickly pulled together a surprise party for me at Janeth and Andres' house, one of my favorite couples in Macas who were strong spiritual mentors in my time there. There were tons of kids from the youth group as well as other close teacher friends of mine from the school. The most encouraging part was that, at one point, everyone shared their goodbyes. Amidst tears were words of how I had shown them love and friendship that they hadn't experienced before; that I had shown them hope and acceptance; that I had encouraged them and challenged them in their walks with the LORD that sparked a fire and would continue to fan into a flame, even if I couldn't be there to lead them on. Someone very dear to my heart had told me only days before that I didn't even know how much I had impacted the people of Macas. And I really didn't think I did very much. But listening to people share was God's way of confirming that yes, I had been used by Him in big ways to love on and encourage so many. I thought I would need a year, but He showed me that He can do these things in 2 months. One of the girls in my d-group said that I had spent more time with them and apart of their lives in the past two months than some missionaries did in years. 

All throughout that morning, I was receiving text messages and phone calls form so many people. Words of encouragement; sharing my pain and assuring me that I was undeserving of this judgement and persecution. Words of love and compassion. Over and over the message of how much I would be missed and cherished was burned into my brain. I heard so many people say "Ali, more than anything you have to know you did nothing wrong." SO many words of support and love. People cried with me and for me when I shared with them in person, which moved me so deeply to know that as much as I loved the Macabean people and the community, God was showing me they felt the same for me. And the message that was repeated the most was "we want you to come back Ali. If you don't come back with the mission organization, we will pray and trust that God will open the door for you to come back another way." So many families told me that I am welcome to stay and live with them if (and when) I come back. 

And above all else, I hear God saying in all of this "well done, good and faithful servant." For a moment I felt like a failure, a very brief moment. And God completely crushed that lie within the last 24 hours that I was in Macas. And I don't know if I'll be going back. Honestly, even if I get invited back by the mission, I don't know if I want to be back under their leadership. I do know this: I will be going back. God has given me peace and confidence in that area. I don't know if it'll be next week, I don't know if it'll be next year. I don't know when, but I know that God has given me such a deep passion and desire for that city, specifically the people. And I know I will be going back. God is faithful.