Being in Ukraine has been hard. Honestly, every month has been hard because of this reason or that. Some things internal – like lies I’m choosing to believe, community issues, getting distracted, not being present. Others external – like language and cultural barriers, ministry tasks, living situation.
Ukraine was different though. On the outside everything looked perfect. I mentioned in my last post, but we have hot showers (praise God), beds, someone cooking for us, American hosts, the best wifi we’ve had in a while. All the “makings” for an awesome month.
Yet, I’ve struggled. A lot.
It’s easy to blame being back in western culture when we haven’t been in seven months. And I definitely think that’s been a part of the struggle. But, as I’ve learned so far, there’s always a deeper issue than what’s hitting you from the outside.
Comfort breeds comfort. Which has the potential to lead to stagnation. It makes things seem really easy when in reality it’s only a different kind of distraction tactic from the same ruthless enemy.
What I’ve found in myself this month more than anything is avoidance. I’ve wanted to hide and run away from any possible emotion I might feel. It even led to me crying on a couch not knowing why I was crying while the other 13 people around me were having fun and enjoying an impromptu dance party.
The other day I was thinking and praying and I came back to this thing that I have come back to a lot the past several months. And I hope as time goes on it’ll be the starting point for my emotions less and less.
I started thinking about Alannah. Which I do every day. But I started listing off all the things that remind me of her, the good and the sad. And then it hit me. A subconscious hurt was brought into the light.
When you’re living with 13 people you tend to accumulate a lot of trash and it almost always needs to be taken out. Every time I would see a full can I would think, “I should really serve everyone and take that out. Nobody likes to take out the trash.” But, then I would walk away and leave the can full.
Alannah was run over by a garbage truck.
Every time I see a trash dump, a filled bag, or a garbage truck. I immediately look or walk away. I can recount many times over the past 7 and half months doing this.
It’s amazing to me how such little things can be such large triggers. And often without us knowing it.
At this point, and due to this realization, I’ve been brimming with emotions. But, I haven’t done well with sharing them. I’ve been quite bottled up. Still hidden. And, honestly, ashamed.
Ashamed to say that a garbage can fills me with such sadness and hurt.
It feels ridiculous.
I know that’s nothing to be ashamed about. And really the attack is more about making me believe that my feelings are shameful or too much for people.
But, that’s a lie. I am not too much. And I am enough. I am preciously me. My feelings are okay. They don’t rule me but they’re okay to feel. Hiding them is what hurt me for so long. Feeling them isn’t always great but it’s always worth it.
I am a feeler. And God teaches me and loves me through my feelings. I won’t be ashamed. I won’t be overcome. And I won’t blame my circumstances on my triggers but instead I’ll look beyond them and into the real issue behind the curtain.
