bella Donna

Each spring I go down to Mexico as a leader with my high school youth group. We work at a little orphanage in the hills of San Antonio, Baja California. One of the neatest aspects of the trip is that we get to build relationships with the orphanage kids who are there year after year. Last year a little two year old girl chose me to hold her each day. This year she did the same thing. I don’t know that she remembered me, but I remembered her. This year she was able to tell me her name. Donna. As I held her in my arms she would gaze up at my face, her hand on my cheek and say, “Te amo,” which is “I love you.”

It warmed my heart to hold that little girl in my arms. Yet I recognized that she has some definite attachment issues. I think of my own nieces and nephews at that age and how long it would take them to let a stranger hold them, while she had no hesitation in lifting her chubby arms to me. What truly broke my heart happened one day in the dining area of the orphanage. Donna had tripped and was crying. But she wasn’t crying for anyone. She wasn’t calling for her mama. She wasn’t calling for anyone. She was just crying. I picked her up and thought how if my niece, Bella, was hurt she would cry for her mom. But Donna doesn’t have a mom to cry for.

What does that do to a little girl or a little boy? I think of my own mom and how much she has shaped the woman I am today. What would my life look like if she hadn’t been there for me when I was three? Or if she left when I was fifteen? It completely breaks my already broken heart.

You are my first memory
You taught me to walk, to ride a bike
Each night you tucked me in tight
Rubbed my back and sang me to sleep
You laugh with me, hold me, and weep when I weep
You held my hand the first day of school (and the second and third)
And have always encouraged me ‘til my fears were assured
Thank you for reading “Tilly’s House” again and again
For teaching me to find joy even in the mundane
For making me brush my teeth
And trying to make me comb my hair
You raised us six to love and to share
You’ve always encouraged my dreams
And put up with all my wanderlust schemes
You showed me that individuality is something to be celebrated
And that each of us has a purpose for being created
Your life and love has pointed me to the Creator
I can think of no other task that could be greater
You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known
Wherever you are is where I call home
Thanks for always listening
Even at one in the morning when I was wired ‘cause I slept in ‘til noon
You are my ideal
And I hope to one day be
The kind of Godly woman and mother that you’ve been to me

Perspective

I just deleted my facebook account. I've simply deactivated it before, but always have returned to it. This time I deleted everything on it, so even if I reactivate it there will be nothing there. I'm glad I did it. Today in an interview, I was asked to give an example of a time I took a stand. As trivial as this seems (and ironic as I'm writing this on a blog), this feels like taking a stand. Facebook has become an excuse for me to not truly invest in the lives of others. I know how you're doing because I read your status and looked at pictures you took on a trip last weekend. But not because I asked or because you told me. Not because I took the time to call you or write you or visit with you. Not because I put you before myself, encouraged you, wept with you, laughed with you.

I have wasted so many hours (which turn into days and weeks and months) on facebook. Ha. That's not the kind of woman I want to be. I want to be about the business of my King. I want to be a lover of people. How can I merely listen to the Word and not do what it says?

Living a Fulfilled Life with Unfulfilled Desires

Is it possible?

It’s my lot in life. The thorn in my side. My Achilles heel. My Delilah. My stumbling block that that I pray will lead to my strength (when His power is made perfect in my weakness). Would that I could escape this. Give this burden to someone else to carry. Choose a different path for my life. It’s too much for me to carry. I’m sinking under the weight of it. A good friend wrote me an e-mail a couple of months ago that describes exactly how my heart feels:

"I don't quite know how I got here and I don't quite know how to get out. I feel like a drowning person in the middle of the ocean. I will keep fighting to my dying breath but that doesn't mean I will succeed. In fact I am afraid that I am losing ground and will soon drown altogether. I need the Lord to bring a change. For I know some of the good things I could do to help myself but I have lost the strength to do them. I feel as though I have let you down. Like I am a great disappointment to you, my family, and others. I fear that somehow that spark of something great I always thought I had inside has faded out altogether. I wonder how my story will end."

I also wonder, how will my story end? I don’t know how I got here and I don’t quite know how to get out. It’s like I’m trapped and will not be set free until I see my Savior face to face.

For years I’ve cried out to the Lord regarding this “thorn.” I haven’t understood why He would bother to create me with this desire, if it was never to be fulfilled. I’ve asked Him why. I’ve blamed Him and been angry at Him. It’s always seemed to me that I would be much more effective in my walk and steadfast in my devotion to Him if I wasn’t distracted by this. So far, He still hasn’t explained to me why. And neither has He taken the desire away. I read something by Elisabeth Elliot one morning that gave me some insight I’ve never seen before.

“Ordinary fare will not fill the emptiness in our hearts. Bread will not suffice. We need extraordinary fare. We need manna. How else will we learn to eat, if we are never hungry? How will we educate our tastes for heavenly things if we are surfeited with earthy? Sex simply will not suffice anymore than bread will. My heart was saying, ‘Lord, take away this longing, or give me that for which I long.’ The Lord was answering, ‘I must teach you to long for something better.’”

Lord, teach me to long for something better.