I'm back!
My dear friends, I have returned to this land of spices and sewage, of roadside pee-ers, and cows that stand in my way when I try to get into the internet cafe to connect with you!
These few weeks have galloped along at a breakneck speed as I jumped head first into the melange of English speeches, chapati class, goodbye letters, graduation, tears and laughter.
My final week at Green Valley was blessed beyond imagination as I was reunited with the students who mean so much to me, and given the opportunity to witness their progress and their unconditional love for me. Their joy over my return was the warmest I've experienced, and at a complete contrast from my last time in India, I felt at every moment that it was the exact, only, place that I was supposed to be. And then, too fast, it was over. On Sunday we had graduation, as us interns, all sari-clad, shook hands and posed for pictures with our proud pupils, and packed up to leave the place that was so dear to our hearts. I spent my last evening sleeping on the roof, under the stars, the Big Dipper winking at me, dangling there to remind me of home (it was hidden on the other side of the world for my fall semester in India...) and all that my life was now angling itself towards. "Two weeks" it whispered in promise. And I woke to one of the most difficult partings of my life, knowing that these brothers and sisters who I have come to cherish so deeply, who sing at the top of their lungs as they walk to the dining hall, who cheerful offer us chai at breaktime, who impressed me almost to tears with their impressive speeches in English class, might be disappearing from my life forever. As one put in his speech, "Green Valley is like a little bit of heaven", and I picture a small corner of heaven with palm trees and red dirt, the chicken coop smell wafting through the doors, where we will reunite our voices once again in a rousing chorus of "Days of Elijah," actions and all.
We departed from Green Valley and split ways, some interns heading to Andra Pradesh for a week and a half trip to visit different student homes and see some more of the South, while Rachel, Jay, Steph and I are here in Ooty, the cool mountain station up amongst the mists and greenery, where we will volunteer at an orphanage for two weeks, and perhaps stay in a remote village to help at a school, as well. Unfortunately, Rachel and my little immune systems have finally succumbed to the sickness that has been threatening with sore throats and coughs for a few weeks, and are resting under piles of blankets in between visits to the orphanage and into town. Thankfully, it is cool and we have time to sleep it off. And we have Jay and Steph to bring us home rememdies, like Tiger balm slathered on the feet, and gargling with whiskey!(Thankfully, Rachel was the only one commanded to do so...)I'm sure the mountain air will soon cure us.
I have again come to a place where my heart is confused, probably because I know I cannot settle here, and so much will happen in the next weeks. Due to some confusion and mix-ups with flights, I am having to trust God that I will have sufficient funding to get me home! The change fees are ridiculous, and have more than doubled from last time. I feel....disappointed. I guess I had hoped that since the miracle of the visa occured, things would be smooth sailing, that God had taught me my lesson, and I could spend the rest of my trip in blissful confidence. I should have known better. He, "who is able to do immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine" clearly likes me to continuously depend on Him, and has many more lessons for me, not least of them the reminder that money is not what controls this world, and He is bigger than even my bank account. Praise Him for providing for me so much already, and yet I still quiver in fear of one of my greatest weaknesses. It seems I have always failed at surrendering finances to the Lord, at having a 'good relationship' with money. Well, looks like me and my wallet are going to be going for some counseling, as I put out more than is probably wise in order to complete my trip to India the way I feel is right. Maybe I am being selfish, and forgive me my friends, for desiring so, but I want to finish off this trip right. I want to fly to Delhi, to see the Taj Mahal, and spend my final days with the other interns who I have experienced so much with. I want to conclude my time with a blaringly shocking Indian experience. I want to feel safe and protected by not having to travel alone. For this occasion, I feel like the Lord is telling me to trust Him in a different way, to not risk losing these things, and instead lose something else that is far more dear to my heart than it should be....my financial security! Please wrap this in your prayers, my faithful warriors who have truly traveled with me such distances, and held me aloft through your great encouragements.
Again, thank you for listening to my blabber...it soothes my soul to share this with you. And my dears! In only 15 days I will be there, shivering, with you, hopefully full to the brim with the hope of this new adventure, this coming home, and carrying with me the dearest souvenir, of a closer relationship with Christ.
Reunions are so sweet...my heart is already halfway there, celebrating with you. See you SOON!
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, March 15, 2010
Miracles really DO happen! And not just at Christmas time!!!
Praise God!
Seriously. Do it. Right now! Cause He is worthy! I am trying to remind myself of this as I go about this day, still unbelieving that only 24 hours ago I was still just praying that God would give me my Indian visa, eventually, and utterly resigned to the fact that I'd have to move my flight.
NOT ANYMORE!
For the Lord is able to do more than we ask or imagine!
I went into the High Commission yesterday in faith that God was doing something bigger than myself, just hoping that they would be able to hurry up the process if they knew that I was putting the pressure on! Well, upon arrival to the High Commission, which was blessedly much less busy than the previous visit, (and surprisingly air conditioned...they must have read my last post! :)) I stood in line a while, was asked to have a seat while they checked, and then called up to the counter to be informed....
"your visa is ready. You can submit your passport tomorrow."
Hallelujah!
I decided to bite the bullet and try to get into the visa centre to submit my passport right away, and with a few phone calls and some more waiting, they accepted my passport and fee (of course, they WOULD accept the fee!) and told me it would be ready by Tuesday at 5 pm. Seriously, this is two days before it was supposed to come through!
As the Lord teaches me more and more about having faith in Him, I am amazed that He continues to make it practical by proving His absolute sovereignty in my life. I read in Colossians today, "and you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority." It is hard to believe, but absolute truth, that the Lord has control over all of the rules of this world! Nothing has power except that which has been given from above! How awesome to think...the basic principles of this Earth are falsehood in comparison to the truth of God's reign...how can we consider ourselves withheld, controlled, in any way? This is sweet freedom.
Thank you for your prayers, my wonderful friends! I have never felt so wrapped in the support of so many people from across the world. I can offer nothing in return except my own heartfelt prayers in return, asking the Lord to pour a blessing upon your life for blessing mine!
Tomorrow shall be the great bus adventure to Singapore (2 hrs to Kuala Lumpur + 6 hrs to Singapore + 3 hrs flight to Bangalore + 1 hr taxi ride to Green Valley = a long day! (and a sore bum!)) but today remains a day of rejoicing and peace. And I just might go eat some brownies to celebrate. Thanks, LORD. (for visas and brownies alike...<3)
Seriously. Do it. Right now! Cause He is worthy! I am trying to remind myself of this as I go about this day, still unbelieving that only 24 hours ago I was still just praying that God would give me my Indian visa, eventually, and utterly resigned to the fact that I'd have to move my flight.
NOT ANYMORE!
For the Lord is able to do more than we ask or imagine!
I went into the High Commission yesterday in faith that God was doing something bigger than myself, just hoping that they would be able to hurry up the process if they knew that I was putting the pressure on! Well, upon arrival to the High Commission, which was blessedly much less busy than the previous visit, (and surprisingly air conditioned...they must have read my last post! :)) I stood in line a while, was asked to have a seat while they checked, and then called up to the counter to be informed....
"your visa is ready. You can submit your passport tomorrow."
Hallelujah!
I decided to bite the bullet and try to get into the visa centre to submit my passport right away, and with a few phone calls and some more waiting, they accepted my passport and fee (of course, they WOULD accept the fee!) and told me it would be ready by Tuesday at 5 pm. Seriously, this is two days before it was supposed to come through!
As the Lord teaches me more and more about having faith in Him, I am amazed that He continues to make it practical by proving His absolute sovereignty in my life. I read in Colossians today, "and you have been given fullness in Christ, who is the head over every power and authority." It is hard to believe, but absolute truth, that the Lord has control over all of the rules of this world! Nothing has power except that which has been given from above! How awesome to think...the basic principles of this Earth are falsehood in comparison to the truth of God's reign...how can we consider ourselves withheld, controlled, in any way? This is sweet freedom.
Thank you for your prayers, my wonderful friends! I have never felt so wrapped in the support of so many people from across the world. I can offer nothing in return except my own heartfelt prayers in return, asking the Lord to pour a blessing upon your life for blessing mine!
Tomorrow shall be the great bus adventure to Singapore (2 hrs to Kuala Lumpur + 6 hrs to Singapore + 3 hrs flight to Bangalore + 1 hr taxi ride to Green Valley = a long day! (and a sore bum!)) but today remains a day of rejoicing and peace. And I just might go eat some brownies to celebrate. Thanks, LORD. (for visas and brownies alike...<3)
Sunday, March 14, 2010
A (senior) officer and (NOT) a gentleman (and me...fighting....at the visa office)
“Trust in the Lord with all your heart, lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.”
“You hem me in, behind and before, You have laid Your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain”
“We are given no miraculous signs, no prophets are left, and none of us knows how long this will be”
These are my Bible verses of the week. <3. Maybe a bit paradoxical? But fitting nonetheless. My friends, if you will, please listen to my tale, for it is quite a tale to tell…
My weeks in Indonesia passed swiftly and joyfully, filled with slobbery hugs from 4 yr. olds, storybooks to read and exclaim over, and joke-filled after-school volleyball. My host family was sweeter than could be imagined, and I felt as if I were in the most secure of hands; treating me to everything I could desire, and caring for me like a daughter. The weeks were fun-filled and adventurous, I was not lying when I said I got a picture with a cheetah (and an orangutan!), but I can now include in my list that I have successfully managed my first Aikido class without killing myself (although I did come away quite bruised!), and had lunch at the Indonesian President’s palace (although the President himself was unfortunately busy, doing heaven’s knows what (leading the country, perhaps? And not exactly concerned about the reunion of my host family’s University class)). Again, I felt slightly guilty at the pleasures I was afforded, knowing that I have come to Asia to sacrifice my time and efforts to help others come to know Christ. Still, God was using this time in a big way to prepare me for all that lay ahead (don’t worry, I’ll fill you in on all the wretched details later…). I was incredibly blessed by the teachers at the school, some passionate Indonesian girls, and friendly, laid-back Aussies, there was even a gentleman from Texas teaching English with a drawl. I was afforded the opportunity to teach, play, and love the students at the International School that my host family’s daughter attended, as well as give my testimony at their church. It seems an insignificant offering, and yet God knows, my full heart was in it, and the comfort surrounding me helped placate the storm brewing in my heart.
You see, after spending weeks with Jason Martens in the Philippines, my mind had been expanded on the theology of what I believe. I was challenged and beaten with the truth (don’t worry, not literally, but Jay had some serious points to be made!) and it began to whirl around in my head and toy with what I thought I was once certain of. In Jay’s arguments on predestination I could only sit there and agree that the Scripture was very clear, and wish that I could somehow discover a way to get around what I found a very troubling truth. God chose His children before they were made. It is only by His work in us that we are saved; we do not even have the ability to crawl to Him. Yet how can I reconcile this? My God, my Father, choosing some of his children for paradise, and in essence, others for eternal hell? How can He do this? How is it glorifying to Him to send those He creates to damnation in order to prove to those He does save, that they did not deserve the saving? I could not rid my mind of these disturbing thoughts. They invaded my meditation, my Bible reading, the church services I attended. My turmoil continued amidst the beautiful peace of my surroundings, and I was grateful for the Lord’s provision: that when it was storming inside, there was solace in the comfortable routine of my everyday life. I wish I could say that in some burst of brilliance, Christ has revealed to me the understanding of this concept, but it would be false. In reading through Romans I find it obviously stated that God chooses who will be saved, yet I still do not want to believe it. I have, however, surrendered it all to the Lord, and prayed that in time, understanding will come. That in seeing this side of my Creator, who I so often shrink to the paltry magnitude of a Teddy Bear, I will grow in depth of relationship with Him, as I see Him as He truly is. And at this time, I do not mind admitting that I do not have the answer to this question of doctrine, but also beg for reprieve due to the nature of our Lord; He is as unsearchable as the heavens, and His ways, no one can comprehend.
My dears, might I beg you to read on? For my story is not yet complete, though I fear to bore you. I can promise, however, that this next bit will spark at least some vestige of passion in you, if I can convey the frustration of my situation properly…
I left Indonesia, alone, on the 9th of March. Traveling solo was a new experience for me, and although taxing on my shoulders (a backpack, a purse, and two duffel bags are no mean feat to carry!), I feel I managed quite competently. I was able to check myself into the nearby hotel, and even find some semi-healthy dinner to eat. The next morning, I was up early and ready for my next quest. The task? Find my way to the Indian High Commission in Kuala Lumpur, and get them to give me a new tourist visa. While some may think this would be a trivial mission, others may know the perils that awaited me at the stuffy, stinky, crowded, building some call the High Commission, but I lovingly dub… “The house of torture.”
My access was barred almost immediately after stepping out of my cab, having already bussed into the heart of the city, and I had to convince the guard at the entryway, to let me pass. Thankfully my magic password got me through (NO, I cannot tell you what it is, otherwise, EVERYONE would be able to get into the joyful paradise of the Indian Consulate!) When I entered in the puny room that already held WAY too many sweating Indian and Malaysian people, (I suppose they were trying to emulate what it really is like in India…no Air Conditioning!) I falteringly glanced around for some sign to tell me where my inquiry could be made. Thankfully, it was at the end of the shorter of the two lines, and me and all my baggage quickly found our place fighting for a chance at the counter. After waiting more than 20 minutes, a surly lady (seriously, who is that grumpy at only 10 in the morning? Your day could not have started off THAT bad…) finally opened the window, and the line started moving. When I reached the front I put on my friendliest of smiles and posed my query, and was responded to with a frown and immediate suspicion. “I’ll have to check your passport with my senior officer” said the miserly woman, “have a seat.” What was I to do but follow orders?! So I sat. And sat. After another 20 minutes, I got in line again, thinking “at least they could give me the form to fill out while I wait.” When I again reached the front, she gave me one glance, would not even let me begin my sentence, and stated, flat out, “you can’t get another visa.” WHY!? Was the word exploding in my mind, and what followed was the biggest, most frustrating argument of my life. Here is a tip: Don’t try to argue with reason with a grumpy person who holds the trump card in his/her hand and doesn’t feel like wasting their time on you. They will always win. Her reasons? “Why do you want to go back to India? You’ve already spent 4 months there, and that is enough time to see it.” Was she serious?! Was this some kind of cruel joke? I realized my calamity when she gave up even trying to talk to me, gave me the “talk-to-the-hand” wave, and left, only to return with her senior officer. Again I voiced my argument, “all I want to do is go back to India, I am just a tourist, I have stayed for some time visiting friends at a small school, helping them a bit, and also traveling around to see different parts of the South. My friends (not to mention all of my luggage!) are waiting for me in India, I even have a flight booked home from there!” The rebuttal: (do your best to imagine a tall, thin Indian man saying this in an Indian accent) “why do you want to go to India? I don’t believe you are a tourist, you are trying to get the wrong type of visa, if you are staying at a school, you should get a student visa, you need to go back to your country and apply from there, I know, I am from India, you do not need more than four months to see it, I do not believe you…” and so the argument would have continued on for eternity (with me intermittently crying, begging, and yelling while his steely eyes remained pitiless) but for the ONE trick I had up my sleeve….
“my camera! Do you want to see pictures, I can SHOW you what I have been doing in India!!!”
And praise God, he said yes. So I showed him. I went through images that made me smile through tears of frustration (ok, so I wasn’t REALLY crying, you know I have problems with my tear ducts, but my eyes were kind of watery!), of the students, of my garden, my joy over eating the beans I had planted, making silly faces as we worked on workday, traveling to Pondichery at Christmas, finding a French café with real crepes (!!!). Pictures of trucks filled with green bananas, skeletal street dogs digging through trash, cows walking on the beach…
I want to go back to India.
With a grim look, the officer said, “I have to check with my senior officer” (how many senior officers can there be!?) and left. I stood there praying, pleading with Jesus to let him have mercy, to give me this chance. And he returned with an application form!
All was good in paradise, right?
Well, I still had to bring my application to another location, fill out a different application, pay my fee, and find my way to Harvest Haven (another bus ride) while lugging all my stuff, to settle there and wait. And TRY not to worry. Trying. REALLY hard. And learn what it is to wait. Wait patiently. And that does not just mean sitting, it means so much more. It means trusting. In an all-powerful God who works miracles for small girls in big, scary places.
And so I am back in this place of learning. Learning to be grateful for that nice, comfortable time I had in Indonesia. Learning to hope for a miracle (you see, the visa could take as many as 10 days from when I dropped it off……and my flight is in 8….). And above all, still, still I am learning just how much this Jesus loves me and has a plan for my future.
So, although some days (…hours…..moments…) I feel miserable, and some I am filled with hope, I continue to be kept afloat by prayers from you! My precious loved ones. How can I properly thank you? Perhaps by ending this so you can go on with your day, and hoping that you were entertained by my tale? Sharing it with you lightens my heart, and renews my hopes. I stay in trust, (in between bouts of chronic worrying), and can joyfully say, with my full heart,
“But as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign LORD my refuge, from-grumpy-difficult-apathetic-visa-people; I will tell of all Your deeds, including-miracles-of-contact-with-my-family-at-unlikely-times.” (paraphrased, Lauren-version)
Aaaaay….men.
“You hem me in, behind and before, You have laid Your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain”
“We are given no miraculous signs, no prophets are left, and none of us knows how long this will be”
These are my Bible verses of the week. <3. Maybe a bit paradoxical? But fitting nonetheless. My friends, if you will, please listen to my tale, for it is quite a tale to tell…
My weeks in Indonesia passed swiftly and joyfully, filled with slobbery hugs from 4 yr. olds, storybooks to read and exclaim over, and joke-filled after-school volleyball. My host family was sweeter than could be imagined, and I felt as if I were in the most secure of hands; treating me to everything I could desire, and caring for me like a daughter. The weeks were fun-filled and adventurous, I was not lying when I said I got a picture with a cheetah (and an orangutan!), but I can now include in my list that I have successfully managed my first Aikido class without killing myself (although I did come away quite bruised!), and had lunch at the Indonesian President’s palace (although the President himself was unfortunately busy, doing heaven’s knows what (leading the country, perhaps? And not exactly concerned about the reunion of my host family’s University class)). Again, I felt slightly guilty at the pleasures I was afforded, knowing that I have come to Asia to sacrifice my time and efforts to help others come to know Christ. Still, God was using this time in a big way to prepare me for all that lay ahead (don’t worry, I’ll fill you in on all the wretched details later…). I was incredibly blessed by the teachers at the school, some passionate Indonesian girls, and friendly, laid-back Aussies, there was even a gentleman from Texas teaching English with a drawl. I was afforded the opportunity to teach, play, and love the students at the International School that my host family’s daughter attended, as well as give my testimony at their church. It seems an insignificant offering, and yet God knows, my full heart was in it, and the comfort surrounding me helped placate the storm brewing in my heart.
You see, after spending weeks with Jason Martens in the Philippines, my mind had been expanded on the theology of what I believe. I was challenged and beaten with the truth (don’t worry, not literally, but Jay had some serious points to be made!) and it began to whirl around in my head and toy with what I thought I was once certain of. In Jay’s arguments on predestination I could only sit there and agree that the Scripture was very clear, and wish that I could somehow discover a way to get around what I found a very troubling truth. God chose His children before they were made. It is only by His work in us that we are saved; we do not even have the ability to crawl to Him. Yet how can I reconcile this? My God, my Father, choosing some of his children for paradise, and in essence, others for eternal hell? How can He do this? How is it glorifying to Him to send those He creates to damnation in order to prove to those He does save, that they did not deserve the saving? I could not rid my mind of these disturbing thoughts. They invaded my meditation, my Bible reading, the church services I attended. My turmoil continued amidst the beautiful peace of my surroundings, and I was grateful for the Lord’s provision: that when it was storming inside, there was solace in the comfortable routine of my everyday life. I wish I could say that in some burst of brilliance, Christ has revealed to me the understanding of this concept, but it would be false. In reading through Romans I find it obviously stated that God chooses who will be saved, yet I still do not want to believe it. I have, however, surrendered it all to the Lord, and prayed that in time, understanding will come. That in seeing this side of my Creator, who I so often shrink to the paltry magnitude of a Teddy Bear, I will grow in depth of relationship with Him, as I see Him as He truly is. And at this time, I do not mind admitting that I do not have the answer to this question of doctrine, but also beg for reprieve due to the nature of our Lord; He is as unsearchable as the heavens, and His ways, no one can comprehend.
My dears, might I beg you to read on? For my story is not yet complete, though I fear to bore you. I can promise, however, that this next bit will spark at least some vestige of passion in you, if I can convey the frustration of my situation properly…
I left Indonesia, alone, on the 9th of March. Traveling solo was a new experience for me, and although taxing on my shoulders (a backpack, a purse, and two duffel bags are no mean feat to carry!), I feel I managed quite competently. I was able to check myself into the nearby hotel, and even find some semi-healthy dinner to eat. The next morning, I was up early and ready for my next quest. The task? Find my way to the Indian High Commission in Kuala Lumpur, and get them to give me a new tourist visa. While some may think this would be a trivial mission, others may know the perils that awaited me at the stuffy, stinky, crowded, building some call the High Commission, but I lovingly dub… “The house of torture.”
My access was barred almost immediately after stepping out of my cab, having already bussed into the heart of the city, and I had to convince the guard at the entryway, to let me pass. Thankfully my magic password got me through (NO, I cannot tell you what it is, otherwise, EVERYONE would be able to get into the joyful paradise of the Indian Consulate!) When I entered in the puny room that already held WAY too many sweating Indian and Malaysian people, (I suppose they were trying to emulate what it really is like in India…no Air Conditioning!) I falteringly glanced around for some sign to tell me where my inquiry could be made. Thankfully, it was at the end of the shorter of the two lines, and me and all my baggage quickly found our place fighting for a chance at the counter. After waiting more than 20 minutes, a surly lady (seriously, who is that grumpy at only 10 in the morning? Your day could not have started off THAT bad…) finally opened the window, and the line started moving. When I reached the front I put on my friendliest of smiles and posed my query, and was responded to with a frown and immediate suspicion. “I’ll have to check your passport with my senior officer” said the miserly woman, “have a seat.” What was I to do but follow orders?! So I sat. And sat. After another 20 minutes, I got in line again, thinking “at least they could give me the form to fill out while I wait.” When I again reached the front, she gave me one glance, would not even let me begin my sentence, and stated, flat out, “you can’t get another visa.” WHY!? Was the word exploding in my mind, and what followed was the biggest, most frustrating argument of my life. Here is a tip: Don’t try to argue with reason with a grumpy person who holds the trump card in his/her hand and doesn’t feel like wasting their time on you. They will always win. Her reasons? “Why do you want to go back to India? You’ve already spent 4 months there, and that is enough time to see it.” Was she serious?! Was this some kind of cruel joke? I realized my calamity when she gave up even trying to talk to me, gave me the “talk-to-the-hand” wave, and left, only to return with her senior officer. Again I voiced my argument, “all I want to do is go back to India, I am just a tourist, I have stayed for some time visiting friends at a small school, helping them a bit, and also traveling around to see different parts of the South. My friends (not to mention all of my luggage!) are waiting for me in India, I even have a flight booked home from there!” The rebuttal: (do your best to imagine a tall, thin Indian man saying this in an Indian accent) “why do you want to go to India? I don’t believe you are a tourist, you are trying to get the wrong type of visa, if you are staying at a school, you should get a student visa, you need to go back to your country and apply from there, I know, I am from India, you do not need more than four months to see it, I do not believe you…” and so the argument would have continued on for eternity (with me intermittently crying, begging, and yelling while his steely eyes remained pitiless) but for the ONE trick I had up my sleeve….
“my camera! Do you want to see pictures, I can SHOW you what I have been doing in India!!!”
And praise God, he said yes. So I showed him. I went through images that made me smile through tears of frustration (ok, so I wasn’t REALLY crying, you know I have problems with my tear ducts, but my eyes were kind of watery!), of the students, of my garden, my joy over eating the beans I had planted, making silly faces as we worked on workday, traveling to Pondichery at Christmas, finding a French café with real crepes (!!!). Pictures of trucks filled with green bananas, skeletal street dogs digging through trash, cows walking on the beach…
I want to go back to India.
With a grim look, the officer said, “I have to check with my senior officer” (how many senior officers can there be!?) and left. I stood there praying, pleading with Jesus to let him have mercy, to give me this chance. And he returned with an application form!
All was good in paradise, right?
Well, I still had to bring my application to another location, fill out a different application, pay my fee, and find my way to Harvest Haven (another bus ride) while lugging all my stuff, to settle there and wait. And TRY not to worry. Trying. REALLY hard. And learn what it is to wait. Wait patiently. And that does not just mean sitting, it means so much more. It means trusting. In an all-powerful God who works miracles for small girls in big, scary places.
And so I am back in this place of learning. Learning to be grateful for that nice, comfortable time I had in Indonesia. Learning to hope for a miracle (you see, the visa could take as many as 10 days from when I dropped it off……and my flight is in 8….). And above all, still, still I am learning just how much this Jesus loves me and has a plan for my future.
So, although some days (…hours…..moments…) I feel miserable, and some I am filled with hope, I continue to be kept afloat by prayers from you! My precious loved ones. How can I properly thank you? Perhaps by ending this so you can go on with your day, and hoping that you were entertained by my tale? Sharing it with you lightens my heart, and renews my hopes. I stay in trust, (in between bouts of chronic worrying), and can joyfully say, with my full heart,
“But as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign LORD my refuge, from-grumpy-difficult-apathetic-visa-people; I will tell of all Your deeds, including-miracles-of-contact-with-my-family-at-unlikely-times.” (paraphrased, Lauren-version)
Aaaaay….men.
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