There is a
Jiminy Cricket that works in the Homework Department of my psyche that is maybe
not so pleased with me right now, but I have not taken a moment to come and
breathe here in just over FIVE weeks, so he will have to whimper on tonight…
Dearones, I’m so sorry! Weeks have tugged at small fibers so that every mental and emotional facet I have are all focused on school; but you all, your faces and your voices and your support tug back without you even knowing you’re doing it. I MISS YOU, am bolstered by you, and am lonely for how well I’m known by you, but it's a delight to be here, and I'm learning so much!
Dearones, I’m so sorry! Weeks have tugged at small fibers so that every mental and emotional facet I have are all focused on school; but you all, your faces and your voices and your support tug back without you even knowing you’re doing it. I MISS YOU, am bolstered by you, and am lonely for how well I’m known by you, but it's a delight to be here, and I'm learning so much!
These last few
weeks have been a roller coaster—I’ve been trying to juggle the course
load here (Phonological Analysis, Sociolinguistic Survey, and Language and
Society) with Skype-interviews and meetings with my Wycliffe Personnel
Administrator; and then stuffed somewhere in between those major players
have been gorgeous little bursts of either time outside to process my
whirwind-head, or time with my uncle or other students…
Last week was a
crux of extremes: it began with the most exquisite beauty (our group went for a
day of hiking and night of camping a few hours north to the most beautiful
spot!), but then we all returned to midterm exams, awaiting projects, 12-page
papers, and all the while the need to think and pray through the large
decisions that are on the horizon. I found myself bucking at feeling inadequate—my
brain wriggling in the one class that stretches it against its regular constructs
of thinking (to the point of embarrassing tears in front of my professor!)—and I
observed my initial frustration (two weeks ago?) when my history with health
issues was discussed as a factor for Wycliffe in where I will be assigned… I am
reminded that no matter how many seasons my faithful Christ walks me through
that pull back my expectations and identity to a gloriously content and
worshiping place, I am still not comfortable being a vessel filled with the right
kind of emptiness sometimes.
If I’m
completely honest, I gravitate back to wanting to be defined by some sort of
skill or ability or unique characteristic—to have “something to offer”—but
always I’m returned to the place where weaknesses or past bouts of
sickness are a defining factor, or my mind’s struggle with the data/structure
side of this task before me overwhelms me and I feel defined by lack. But THIS
is where He begins to move again, this is where he uses my disillusionment with
myself to open my eyes again, to fill them with light, to show me that those
specific weaknesses that He has allowed in me are exactly as they should be and
that He has always woven good stories around weakness whose only acclaiming attribute
is a steady, resounding “yes, Lord”.
Once again He has to whisper, hold loosely, with your hands wide open… don’t choke it; your clasped, tiny fingers are ineffectual anyway, but you’re going to want Me to be free to move these things over and around you, across your flattened, receptive palms, little one, so trust Me and stride forward, delighted.
Once again He has to whisper, hold loosely, with your hands wide open… don’t choke it; your clasped, tiny fingers are ineffectual anyway, but you’re going to want Me to be free to move these things over and around you, across your flattened, receptive palms, little one, so trust Me and stride forward, delighted.
