Reflecting
When I think of reflecting, I think of seeing myself in the mirror.
Looking at the person that is me.
What do I see?
I see the expression on my face.
In the past 3 weeks, I have only had makeup on my face two handful of times.
I had some of the biggest zits than I’ve had in years this past couple weeks.
I have slept longer hours than in a while.
What do I see in the reflection?
I see someone who’s experienced worlds very different from her own.
I see someone whose heart is bigger.
I see someone who has found she’s more messed up and messy than she would have liked to admit a year ago.
I see someone who is not shying away from uncomfortable.
I see someone who isn’t afraid to feel. Feel pain, feel emotion, feel heartache.
I see someone who wants to feel what oppressed feel.
I see someone whose afraid to forget who she sees.
I see someone whose afraid she’ll be misunderstood.
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Reflection also brings to mind closure. With closure comes the feeling of forgetting or denying change.
I’ve been avoiding such a topic because I don’t want my moving forward to be of forgetting.
This is an irrational fear. I know in my head; yet in my emotions it is a very real fear.
I’m so afraid I will forget all this year has taught me. I’m afraid I will forget the amazing souls I met abroad. I’m afraid I’ll be sucked into the culture in America.
I’m afraid.
It’s not logical though.
Nearly every time I have been in a restroom I have been consciously thankful it’s a western toilet & there’s toilet paper. I’m serious!
Today when I was outside for a couple minutes (it’s about 32° F), I thought “I wonder what the temperature is in Syria. I wonder if the people in Aleppo are warm enough.”
I’ve thought about the kids I played with in Greece that had fled Syria. We giggled and played like kids should.
I’ve thought about my Moroccan family in their house church & how they share meals together. How they’ve said “please pray for our church & Morocco”. How they told us at least 10 times, “when you come to Morocco, don’t even think about staying in a hostel, you are always welcome in our home.”
I’ve thought about my friends in Kyrgyzstan & their testimonies of coming from Muslim families & communities. How the first thing they dream about is their moms, dads, brothers and sisters coming to Christ.
I think about Carlton & Heather in India. Their “orphanage” they don’t call an orphanage. It’s a home. The kids they brought in are an extension of their family; I got to see that.
I’m going to look back in that mirror tomorrow.
I’m going to see someone who is not afraid to step into a world vastly different from hers.
I’m going to see someone who won’t settle.
I’m going to look at someone who is brave enough to believe she can do what she thinks is crazy & impossible.
I’m going to see someone who is learning to be okay with a messy, wild, vibrant life.
// What do you see when you look at your reflection?
Stay tuned for more reflecting as 2016 comes to a finish.
