So here is the news that some of you already know and many may have guessed:
I will be returning to the states this fall. If you’ve been reading my blogs, you’ve seen that this hasn’t been a decision that happened all at once, but it’s been a slow waiting on God’s direction kind of decision. But the time for waiting has run out and it’s time to buy return tickets; no official return date yet, but it’ll be sometime around the 28th of October (exactly a year after getting on a plane to come here).
Yesterday was my
24th birthday, it was also exactly
10 months since stepping onto Ivorian soil. This Friday will be the
7 month-iversary since moving in with my family.
Time seems to be rushing by me. Like I’m floating down a river, taking in the beauty of the surrounding countryside and unexpectedly the scenery begins to change and the river’s current picks up. The new scenery is beautiful too, but I didn’t realize I was coming to this new section so quickly. I’m suddenly wishing that I could swim back up stream to catch a glimpse of the all the beauty I’d been taking for granted (did I really think it would go on forever?), but the currents too strong; I can‘t fight it.
I haven't been able to make up my mind this August: sometimes wishing time's current would slow down, but in the next moment completely denying that it is carrying me to a new place, and even occasionally wanting to just move on already and get out of this stage of transition.
I haven’t updated much this last month because I kept waiting for the official return date. I wanted to have my ticket bought before I made the announcement. My
excuse for not posting a blog was the lack of a precise return date, but the more
accurate reason has been I don’t really want to deal with what’s happening. I don’t know how to
juggle the responsibility of being ready for what’s next and of continuing to engage in relationships and life here. It’s
hard and it
hurts.
Funny how birthdays make you think about time. A year ago I was convinced I wouldn’t be going to Côte d’Ivoire until sometime in 2011 and then two months later (after God provided in so many wonderfully unexpected ways) I was starting my adventure here. Thinking of this reminds me I need not continue into tomorrow with fear,
God has proven Himself faithful a million times. So instead of closing my eyes and denying it, or fighting against it, or wishing it was over already, I can float through this time of transition with my
eyes wide open, taking in as much as I can, because these last two months are going to be gone before I know it, and I will never be able to get them back. Instead I will be flying right into whatever God has next for me.
It probably won’t seem real until I have an actual date, until then it feels like a mere rumor. Life here has become too normal and comfortable, so surely it won’t be changing?? Even the pain of missing people in the states has become like the rice and sauce I eat everyday: I wouldn‘t necessarily choose it, but it‘s what makes up life here. Without it, I would feel as if something was missing. Surely I haven't spent these last months getting used to life here, just to have it ripped away and have to get used to a new 'normal' all over again?
But here‘s what I am so slow to learn: I can’t keep holding on to normal or yesterday or tomorrow or even the good times. I can’t keep holding on to family and friends (new or old) or education or a good reputation. Nor can I continue holding on to ideas like living a worthwhile life, or even trying to make a difference.
The only thing worth holding onto is Him.
May this time of transition teach me to
accept completely, yet
hold loosely, whatever He gives, so that my strength is free to
wrap every finger tightly around Him