I help teach the two and three year olds at my church. Every Sunday is always a crazy adventure with lots of laughter, tears, runny noses, separation anxiety.....and joy.
But yesterday, God brought something to my attention. In the midst of the runny noses, the tears, the hurting hearts, and the general craziness, we never really got to the lesson plan. Oops. The type A, oldest child part of me was freaking out and determined that we could make it fit into the schedule. One of the other teachers gently reminded me what time it was, and that we should just sing some songs instead. "Songs?" I was thinking. "These kids need to hear the actual lesson!" But then God nudged my heart, reminding me that showing his love to hurting, nervous, anxious kids is the best lesson in and of itself." Ouch. That was convicting. So instead of leaving church feeling frustrated by the "chaos" of the day. I left with a full heart, grateful that God had reminded me, as he always does, that His way and His plan are always better. And that a 1 Corinthians 13 kind of love is always the most important and best thing. If I am so committed to the lesson plan, but forget about God's love and forget to leave room for His work, then it is all for nothing. I must leave room and time for Him to be at work.
Monday, August 25, 2014
Friday, August 15, 2014
Suffering
It's been almost three weeks since I returned from my trip to Costa Rica and San Blas. I can't believe it. Some days I almost forget, and then other days I'm so homesick for Latin America and my Never The Same family that it hurts.
The transition back to white, middle class, American life has been rough. I feel like a misfit. I always come back from these trips truly Never The Same. But how do I apply that to my everyday life and explain that to the people in my life?
I held a missions night in my parent's home this week for all my supporters who faithfully prayed for me and encouraged me. It was so much fun to show them what I had done on my trip, and share the many amazing stories of how God was at work. At one point, I asked if anyone had any questions, and one of my friends had one that hit my heart hard. She said, "How do you deal with all the suffering you saw?" It's a great question. Especially since it's one I'm wrestling with in my day to day life in my new job working with kids with Autism. I said, "I don't really know. It's so hard. I've spent a lot of time crying." And it's true. Although I know God is a good God who loves His children and those who don't know Him as well, and even though I know we live in a fallen world filled with sin and suffering, at least for now, I find myself daily asking God why He would allow suffering. Especially the suffering of children. It breaks my heart.
And, as if that weren't enough suffering to contemplate and wrestle with already, I found myself face-to-face with more suffering. In my own house. After a horrible Monday filled with anxiety about my schedule for work and school in the fall, lots of uncertainty, working my first shift with the most challenging kid at work, missing half of Bible study because of my work schedule, and trying to move files on my computer over to an external hard drive with no luck, my Mom came upstairs to tell me one of our guinea pigs was partially paralyzed in his back legs. I lost it. More suffering, God? Really? As if what I saw in Costa Rica and San Blas was not enough? In my very own house? I cried as I watched my guinea pig walk, dragging his back legs along the ground, struggling to keep his face from dragging. And I thought of a little boy I saw in Costa Rica who probably has polio or some other bone disease, giving him bowed legs, that will probably someday render him unable to walk, because he will most likely not receive the medical care he needs. My heart broke. And I'm still dealing with it, four days later. I want to go back to Costa Rica and fix all the hurt I saw, helping those who have nothing. But I can't right now. I would leave everything and go. But school is calling, training is calling. I do not want to go unequipped. I want to get my master's degree in counseling, so I can help the hurting in other countries with the experience God will give me. And I know I will be able to help more if I wait. But the waiting is so hard. It helps immeasurably to be able to go back to Latin America every so often, so I can be reminded of what I'm working towards. But in the meantime, I wait. With an anxious and broken heart, waiting for God to bring healing and joy in the midst of suffering.
The transition back to white, middle class, American life has been rough. I feel like a misfit. I always come back from these trips truly Never The Same. But how do I apply that to my everyday life and explain that to the people in my life?
I held a missions night in my parent's home this week for all my supporters who faithfully prayed for me and encouraged me. It was so much fun to show them what I had done on my trip, and share the many amazing stories of how God was at work. At one point, I asked if anyone had any questions, and one of my friends had one that hit my heart hard. She said, "How do you deal with all the suffering you saw?" It's a great question. Especially since it's one I'm wrestling with in my day to day life in my new job working with kids with Autism. I said, "I don't really know. It's so hard. I've spent a lot of time crying." And it's true. Although I know God is a good God who loves His children and those who don't know Him as well, and even though I know we live in a fallen world filled with sin and suffering, at least for now, I find myself daily asking God why He would allow suffering. Especially the suffering of children. It breaks my heart.
And, as if that weren't enough suffering to contemplate and wrestle with already, I found myself face-to-face with more suffering. In my own house. After a horrible Monday filled with anxiety about my schedule for work and school in the fall, lots of uncertainty, working my first shift with the most challenging kid at work, missing half of Bible study because of my work schedule, and trying to move files on my computer over to an external hard drive with no luck, my Mom came upstairs to tell me one of our guinea pigs was partially paralyzed in his back legs. I lost it. More suffering, God? Really? As if what I saw in Costa Rica and San Blas was not enough? In my very own house? I cried as I watched my guinea pig walk, dragging his back legs along the ground, struggling to keep his face from dragging. And I thought of a little boy I saw in Costa Rica who probably has polio or some other bone disease, giving him bowed legs, that will probably someday render him unable to walk, because he will most likely not receive the medical care he needs. My heart broke. And I'm still dealing with it, four days later. I want to go back to Costa Rica and fix all the hurt I saw, helping those who have nothing. But I can't right now. I would leave everything and go. But school is calling, training is calling. I do not want to go unequipped. I want to get my master's degree in counseling, so I can help the hurting in other countries with the experience God will give me. And I know I will be able to help more if I wait. But the waiting is so hard. It helps immeasurably to be able to go back to Latin America every so often, so I can be reminded of what I'm working towards. But in the meantime, I wait. With an anxious and broken heart, waiting for God to bring healing and joy in the midst of suffering.
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