Life in Africa

caught in the rain

I love rain.

I love watching lightning dance across the horizon and hearing thunder roll across the sky. A friend and I did just that the other night; we lay on the bed with the lights out and curtains open, watching the artistry of the heavens. Unforgettable moments.

I guess I can't really make the blanket statement that I love rain. Cause it's not always true. I love rain when I'm not in it. When I can hear it, see it, smell it...without actually getting wet.

But today I got caught in a downpour, and I loved every minute of it. I stood with my arms outstretched, and spun around. I even jumped in the puddles. I was drenched to the bone.

But it wasn't with water...

Niel showered me with words from his heart.

The waterfall of his words rolled over me, covered me completely, until I felt I could hold no more. Wrung out, I knew I'd drip love.

And that's something my heart will hold onto for a long time... Will hold onto for a rainy day.

like a river

Follow after peace. I've said that a lot. And now I'm thinking about what that really means. I've always described peace as a calm amidst the storm; a sense of confidence and security when my circumstances are screaming in my ears for me to be unsure and insecure. But I don't think peace always means a complete lack of uncertainty or unsteadiness.

Courage isn't the absence of fear; it's the pushing onward in spite of it. Courage means "doing it afraid". I think peace is the same.

Peace isn't the absence of inner turmoil. It isn't a heart devoid of confusion or unknowing. Peace is the pushing onward in spite of it all. Peace is remembering that there is One who is above the storm, who controls the storm, who holds my hand as I walk through it.

I can experience peace even when my heart feels otherwise.

I can follow after peace even as I second-guess each step.

I can be flooded with peace even while I'm flooded by overwhelming circumstances -- and even when I'm feeling completely overwhelmed by them.

I can be at peace even when I am afraid.

Today I choose to follow after peace...

today's opus

My mind swayed to the cacophony of rustling brown bags as we stuffed and folded all 1800 of them. The constant noise drowned out all lucid thoughts in my head. Conversations were limited, if had at all. There was a sort of quiet amidst the symphony of noise.

And then it stopped.

The last bag was stuffed and folded. Silence covered the room like a quilt. It was so thick, it was almost deafening. There was a peace, a calm, that came with the loud silence.

Noise can be silent.
Silence can be loud.

The dichotomy of the two extremes seemed to capture the state of my mind. It was exactly how I was feeling: torn between the noise and the silence.

moodiness

The other day in a conversation with a friend about bad moods, I made the statement: Moodiness is manipulation. I've been mulling over that comment of mine, and have concluded that I believe it to be true.

I find myself quickly swayed by the moods of those around me. At times, I realize I'm waiting to determine someone's "vibe" so I know how to act, how to interact. And I've come to the conclusion that it isn't healthy. I should be me regardless of others. I shouldn't change myself based on others' actions or attitudes. But I so often do. So often.

It's manipulation, really.

I'm also more keenly aware of how often I use my moods to manipulate others. Most often, my bad moods are distorted expressions of my true emotions. They're dishonest representations of what I'm actually feeling or wanting. Dishonest? Yeah. Ouch.

Instead of saying that something's bothering me, I mope or sigh loudly, in the hopes that someone will ask if I'm OK. Rather than communicate that I'm not feeling well and need to take things slow, I just grumble and slouch during the busyness of my day. Instead of sharing that my heart is heavy or I'm feeling sad, I lash out in frustration and impatience.

It's manipulation, really.

And it's wrong.

all he hoped

My Dad is not very communicative or expressive; he's a pretty quiet guy. We can spend hours together without saying much of anything. Even now, when I live halfway around the world, I don't hear from him often. When I do, it's typically just a few lines in an email, but it means so much. Because for a few-words guy, those few words mean a lot.

He recently sent me a short email. There were eight words, though, that stopped me cold.

"You are everything I hoped you would be."

I couldn't stop myself from crying when I read that. I'm everything he hoped I would be?! I have a hard time hearing and receiving compliments as it is, but to hear that from my Dad was almost incomprehensible. My irrational brain told me he can't really mean it. Yet I know he was sincere. Genuine. Honest. Woah... It's almost too much to handle.

How can I be everything he hoped I would be when I'm not everything I hoped I would be?

I fall short in so many areas.

I've hoped I would be so much more than I am. A better wife. A better friend. A better missionary. Which makes me wonder if I'll ever be able to say that I am everything I hoped I would be. If I can't, does that mean I'm being irrational? Perfectionistic? Expecting too much? Or just practical? Realistic? Honest?

Isn't it good to aim high? "Shoot for the stars"? (No one expects to really hit them, do they?)

I'm not sure what to think about my constant hoping to be more than I am. But hearing my Dad tell me I'm all he hoped for, strengthened my heart. Gave me a new resolve. Made my heart smile real big.

I'll keep hoping to be more than I am. And in the meantime, I'll rest in the assurance that I make my Dad(s) proud.