I’m pissed. And Hurt. And Grieved.
I’ve got so many things going though my head right now, to
recently damaged friendships that I don’t know how to repair, to the crows
cawing in the palm trees that remind me so much of home. The constant annoying
laughter and crying of the children who’s language I can’t pretend to BEGIN to
understand. And the worship music I’m forced to endure that is so epic I can’t
help but allow the tears to flow.
Sweating to death, and knowing it’s only going to get HOTTER as this
year goes on. Wondering if the bed bugs that visited me last night are going to
visit again, and wishing I could find some solitude that doesn’t feel like
isolation.
So many things going on. My head is a knot and my brain
merely jello, and I don’t even want to START telling you what my heart is
feeling. I can’t sew the shreds of it together to put a coherent word to what
THAT is all about.
Somehow I’m supposed to be a missionary. So many people had
high hopes. They said I was a good person. They think I’m doing “good.” Let me
ask you, what do you consider “Good” anyway? I know what I consider to be
“good.”
And I am not it.
The words of the song, “Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy,
Lord have mercy, on me,” are crying out in the other room. Amen and Amen.
Then a little girl, a Tanzanian, pokes her head around the
corner, her smile whiter than any Muzungu I know. She barely comes up to my
knee, and she’s waving her hand around, trying to elicit a response from me, a
stranger in this place.
She likes me because I’m white. I like her because I feel
like somehow, God is waving at me in that moment. Trying to get my attention.
Saying, “I see you, and I’m smiling, even when you’re not.”
This year is about my Heart Lord. You told me that. So fix
it already so I can get on with Your work.
Thanks for smiling, I’m glad somebody
is.
