Sacrifice

As I walk along the road to Doryumu, our nearest village, with my new playlist from Callie Gordon blaring in my ears replacing the silence of the farmland that surrounds me, I contemplate what is happening in my life “without” me. Parts of my life that I am living from 7,000 miles away… Devin and Ryan’s recent engagement, my two Burrow mates wedding planning in Spokane together, Caty’s first year of teaching, my sister’s volleyball tournaments and junior year of high school, little Caitlin’s contagious laugher, friends in their first year of graduate school, new marriages, Alyssa passing her WEST-E, Holly’s adjustment to life in the States, Lynne’s new job in Costa Rica, new jobs and new romances for many dear friends, break ups, Caty and Randi spending the weekend together in Montana, my brother and mother’s birthdays… There are so many things that I wish I could be more present for. I have been back in Ghana for less than a week, but these things feel farther away than ever.

I keep walking. I want to weep.

My favorite climbing tree is coming up on the walk. My destination… My solitude. Today three cars, a person walking, and a person on a bike passed me without realizing I was hidden in the thick of the leaves. Since people usually make a scene when they see me on that road, I am sure I went unnoticed.

“As long as you keep on fighting, I swear there’s a silver lining, You’re gonna see the sun come out…” Give it Time, Tyrone Wells.

As Tyrone Wells sings this line in my ears, a streak of the beautiful white birds that make their home in a nearby tree flew across my path. The white birds that flock together on the same tree at the end of every day and provided a source of wonder and enchantment for me and Holly all fall. The white birds that remind me there is a silver lining… But it doesn’t come easy. And this brings the tears from my eyes as they look to the sky for understanding.

Back in May, Autumn sent me words I needed to hear, yet were hard to swallow… are still hard to swallow sometimes. “Was praying for you this morning and your decision to come work with us for a year. This passage came to mind: Luke 14:25-35.”

The title of this passage in my Bible is “The Cost of Being a Disciple.” Today, I am feeling that cost. “Whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple (verse 27).” Yes… I will carry that cross. But I will remember that there is a cost in that.

This is what the Lord calls us to do! He calls us to listen to Him and go where we are called, whether that be in Western Washington or in West Africa. I know that wherever I go, I will be missing someone… A lot of someones. My heart is spread out all over the States and all over the world… Little pieces of it on different continents, different coasts, different states… But as things happen far away, I mourn being out of the “action.” I want to celebrate these times and invest in these memories. And I will, as much as I can from here… But I find myself wishing I could be more present.

I know that I am where I am supposed to be. Even when getting started in school is hard and different responsibilities and challenges are being looked at, I wash the dirt off my feet and arms at the end of every day knowing that it means a day spent serving a God who has been so merciful to me… A day being the hands and feet of Jesus here in Ghana. “If not us, tell me who will be, like Jesus to the least of these”… Fine, Audio Adrenaline. I will be. And I have to remember that this “hands and feet” job doesn’t end in four and a half months (wow, that sounds so short yet feels so long) when I return to the States. I might not wash the red dirt off my feet at the end of the day, I might not take pictures of children laughing in my class as we crowd at the back table trying to talk over the fan (I discovered this morning that my classroom got two ceiling fans over break! What a blessing!) and the other teacher and students in the room, and I might not be pulling words out of sweet Bismark or resolving fights between Hannah and Enoch… But that doesn’t make my new calling, whatever it will be, any less valuable.

But right now, this whole Africa thing feels hard.

Not too hard. Just hard. As Robin reminded me this morning, I am not to be deceived by feelings! I am to rest in the truth and call of the One who never fades… the One who never changes… The One for whom nothing is too hard.

“Break my heart for what breaks yours, everything I am for your kingdom’s cause…”

I pray for more of this. For more perspective and for more empathy. God, more than anything, I pray for more of you…