'And how could such a thing
Shine its light on me
And make everything beautiful again'
Our season of many good-byes has come to an end. We saw handfuls of friends off at the dock, heading to the airport, to where God has called them next. It ends what was a long few weeks of "see you laters" to those who in this short few months have come to be close friends.
Friendships here are hard to describe. You live, work, play, and sleep together. It is hard to find alone time. We are here for a common purpose, so bonds are easily formed. Friends are never more than a minute away and someone is always willing to get coffee or watch a movie!
But there are drawbacks to this kind of community. It is hard to find time alone. On a bad day, you still have to interact with people. (or stay in your cabin and starve...)
Day to day life can be hard. As I have said before, I have had to let go of so many expectations I had about being here. One being that by month 4, I would be settled, loving every moment, and feeling that I've got the hang of this. Most days I do, but there are also days where feelings of doubt and unmet expectations creep in.
In these friendships, you are starting from scratch. I thought this a disadvantage. As much as I thought I was prepared for this experience and things I was anticipating learning, I was not. The self I became after living here only a few short weeks was a semi-exposed version, stripped of my comforts of home and my routines, a self that I usually keep very well protected behind quite a few walls and layers. This was the person these friends had to meet first. Not the me from home, who I thought (and still some days think) is the better version.
This self here struggled. To find my place and figure out what I am doing here. I came longing to make a difference in the lives of the people here, and many days I wonder if that is what I am actually doing here. Is what I am doing enough, even when it looks so different than what I had imagined? And what comes next?
My friends here have accepted this version of me. They listen to me. They encourage me. Every Wednesday, these friends gather on Deck 6 to check in about life together. One of our last Wednesdays before we begin to disperse, (and by we, I mean they, I'm staying here :) our South African friends were going to wash our feet.
We all waited, then they brought us over one by one to wash our feet and pray over us. I stood at the back of the room, humbled by these friends. Watching each person be passionately prayed over and served by friends. These are some of the most selfless people I have known and I found myself wondering again about my place here.
Then it was my turn. With the beautiful South African accent, I was prayed over. Every thing I complained about or questioned 10 feet away at the back of the room was prayed over. It was a resounding "Yes. I hear you. I see you. I know you. That is all that matters."
I am reminded again this Advent season that our God is not a God of the expected. A king was expected; he sent a baby. I am learning unexpected lessons: to let go of the things I thought were good in me and realize the only thing that can ever be good in me is Jesus. To let go of the need to give things and learn to just give of myself. To not be sorry when real emotions surface, but thankful that someone is there to listen. To learn to live in anticipation of what He is doing, rather than in my own expectations.
That He be glorified in each moment and our true joy found in Him, maybe that is all that matters.
Friendships here are hard to describe. You live, work, play, and sleep together. It is hard to find alone time. We are here for a common purpose, so bonds are easily formed. Friends are never more than a minute away and someone is always willing to get coffee or watch a movie!
But there are drawbacks to this kind of community. It is hard to find time alone. On a bad day, you still have to interact with people. (or stay in your cabin and starve...)
Day to day life can be hard. As I have said before, I have had to let go of so many expectations I had about being here. One being that by month 4, I would be settled, loving every moment, and feeling that I've got the hang of this. Most days I do, but there are also days where feelings of doubt and unmet expectations creep in.
In these friendships, you are starting from scratch. I thought this a disadvantage. As much as I thought I was prepared for this experience and things I was anticipating learning, I was not. The self I became after living here only a few short weeks was a semi-exposed version, stripped of my comforts of home and my routines, a self that I usually keep very well protected behind quite a few walls and layers. This was the person these friends had to meet first. Not the me from home, who I thought (and still some days think) is the better version.
This self here struggled. To find my place and figure out what I am doing here. I came longing to make a difference in the lives of the people here, and many days I wonder if that is what I am actually doing here. Is what I am doing enough, even when it looks so different than what I had imagined? And what comes next?
My friends here have accepted this version of me. They listen to me. They encourage me. Every Wednesday, these friends gather on Deck 6 to check in about life together. One of our last Wednesdays before we begin to disperse, (and by we, I mean they, I'm staying here :) our South African friends were going to wash our feet.
We all waited, then they brought us over one by one to wash our feet and pray over us. I stood at the back of the room, humbled by these friends. Watching each person be passionately prayed over and served by friends. These are some of the most selfless people I have known and I found myself wondering again about my place here.
Then it was my turn. With the beautiful South African accent, I was prayed over. Every thing I complained about or questioned 10 feet away at the back of the room was prayed over. It was a resounding "Yes. I hear you. I see you. I know you. That is all that matters."
I am reminded again this Advent season that our God is not a God of the expected. A king was expected; he sent a baby. I am learning unexpected lessons: to let go of the things I thought were good in me and realize the only thing that can ever be good in me is Jesus. To let go of the need to give things and learn to just give of myself. To not be sorry when real emotions surface, but thankful that someone is there to listen. To learn to live in anticipation of what He is doing, rather than in my own expectations.
That He be glorified in each moment and our true joy found in Him, maybe that is all that matters.
Wow - thank you for sharing this with us. You are such a good writer and it's so humbling to even read. (sorry this is late)
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