I slowly wake up when I feel soft shakes followed by whispers of, “we’re here, we’re here.” I half-asleep shake the hands of our new hosts and join the rest of the girls as we zombie walk to our new room. It’s 6 AM. we’ve been traveling for 26 hours now. I climb into my top bunk, which is about 7 inches from the one next to it, ready to go to sleep. I hear a scream and a couple others join. The sun is coming up now, enough to be able to make out three large and furry tarantulas crawling on the bed next to me. I do what any normal person who’s been awake for 26 hours, whos just packed their lives into a backpack, and whos just moved countries would do, I sobbed. We wake up for lunch, I climb out of the twin bed I shared with a friend who consoled me all night, and I walk out to some of the most beautiful mountains I’ve ever seen. Cows and horses pass by and my soundtrack consists of roosters and ducks. My hair rustles in the perfect breeze and it looks good. The pool (praise GOD!) looks inviting and I can pick out different lime and orange trees toward the mountains. Most of the mountain is untouched, but I can see classic tin roofs and dirt roads in the distance. This is the Dominican Republic.
I love it here. Weather is perfect, ministry is great, and our hosts are fantastic. I set up my hammock with perfect view of the mountain and settle in to ask the Lord why I can’t seem to really want to be here. I shamefully do what I promised myself I wouldn’t: compare it. I read old journal entries and find myself calling Costa Rica home by day one and plead to God to make this wonderful place home soon. Although, i fear the day I call it home, because it means Costa Rica is now in the past. Truth is, I’m not the best at saying goodbye. Actually, I hate it. The mountains surround us from all angles here. “I feel like they’re closing in on me”, I think as I look out. “I look out at these unfamiliar mountains and think of this season being the same. Beautiful. I can see some streets that look like ones I’ve seen before, but not quite. Houses in the distance I don’t know stories of. Peeks and valleys are unknown, they look about as far as God feels, closer than I think.” Is the prayer I scribble down in my journal. I beg God to grow my capacity to love and I tell Him I trust Him with my broken heart as I open my Bible.
Psalm 125:2 “as the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the Lord surrounds His people, from this time forth and forevermore.”
dang. the mountains take a whole new meaning. As I read this, i see the mountains surrounding me a little different. kind of like the season I’m stepping into, they’re big. They’re scary, they’re unfamiliar, and they don’t make sense. They’re pretty, but they hold a heart that is stretched and tender. They hold a heart close from bursting from love of people of the last season. They hold worries and fears. They hold life changes and imperfect days. They hold aches of missing home and confusions of where I mean when I say home. But, overall, the mountains are a picture of steadfast love. Of a safety net made by the blood of Jesus. The way these mountains close in on me is the way that the Lord surrounds me with His love in one hand and his faithfulness to not waste my heartache, promises to grow my capacity to love, and bring goodness out of this season in the other. I see this, and I can’t help but wonder, “what if I’m called to say goodbye for the rest of my life, for the kingdom?”
yeah, He’s a good God. One that I trust. One that I can put my hope in. Every single thing I am, place I go, heart pang I have, is for the glory of Him and the advancement of His kingdom. Thanks God!
“I will praise you in the mountain.
I will praise you when the mountains in my way.
You’re the summit where my feet are. I will praise you in the valleys all the same.
No less God within the shadows, no less faithful when my heart leads me astray. You’re the haven where my heart is, in the highlands and the heartache all the same”
- Highlands Hillsong United
