Some days...

Saturday March 12, 2011

Some days just are.

I went to bed somewhat early last night, especially considering it was a Friday night. I was tired. After a restless night’s sleep, I woke up to somewhat of a familiar friend- tired. It’s odd, because it seems that there are times I can’t tell if I’m dreaming in my sleep of if I’m lying there awake and actively thinking or praying about things. It all seems to run together.

A number of nights ago David told me that they stay up here until 11 or midnight most nights. He told me that the earlier you went to bed the longer you had to lie in the heat. Those words rang in my ears as I tossed and turned in the night. I find myself trying to stay up until 11 most nights. Trying to stay up--everything about that is against my nature. I am a night owl at heart.

I will never take sleeping in on a Saturday morning for granted again. They don’t seem to exist here. David’s truth comes into play, in addition to the happenings of life here. I tried to force myself to keep sleeping, which really ended up with me falling asleep for 5-10 minute increments only to be startled awake by a screaming child, the “whish, whish, whish, scrape, scrape” of the concrete being slathered on the bricks right outside my room, or the slamming of my window from a gust of wind.

Oh, how I love sleep, yet it’s almost as if you are asking to be punished for any amount of it here. Odd, I tell you. I sat up under my mosquito net after giving in, drenched, praying to the Lord for a joyful heart. The truth is, I found myself annoyed with the heat. No person, but an object.

I got ready for the day, walked out of my room to an oddly quiet compound compared to last Saturday. Amazing how different it was compared to when I was lying in my bed desperately praying to be cool and asleep. Walking outside offered a little relief. Thank you, Lord. There are different types of shade. My room vs. outside under the awning. The awning tends to win 9 times out of 10.

Today was the day; the very first IA2 group meeting. I prayed for His expectations, not mine. I knew where mine could be, wanted to be, but asked for His heart and His will.

I headed over to Mary’s as I told her I would at 11:30. I had what seemed like a staring match with a sweet lady that was there sitting by me, her hair half braided. I used up all of my Kuku, and she didn’t seem too generous with her English. Thus, a looking glance here and there…over and over ensues. Mary hopped in the shower upon seeing me coming. It put a smile to my face. She freshened up and was ready to go in 15 minutes! My American mentality was glad I had planned accordingly, knowing deep down that it doesn’t really matter because I’m living here, my world only existing really in me.

Pray. I needed to pray. Our 10 minute walk to the market consisted of conversation to the Lord for the upcoming group. We get there about 5 minutes early, which I see on my watch and smile knowing that it is likely to be worse to be early than late. Still, there we were. I start to walk over to the tree where I met with the people on Thursday but am quickly told its better there in the market since there is so much dust by the tree today. What do I know?

I look around. The market is almost empty. I don’t see any faces I recognize. I’m pretty good with recognizing faces. Hmm. I ask, and I’m told that Saturdays are market days. Most people head to Jalimo (another larger market) to get things to bring back to sell here. Market day. Today, when I was told by them to come.

I am gently reminded that He has a plan and a purpose that most often I cannot see. The seating arrangement is awkward. I’ve got to figure out how not to be the one presenting while they are sitting being the ones not interacting but simply listening. Regardless, work with what you have. After a few minutes there are a good number of women surrounding me. Not too close as to stay at a close spectator distance, some I can’t even see because they are all sitting so chaotically around mingled in with the market “tables” and such. I look at Mary, she looks at me.

Go.

I introduce myself and why I am there. Only one or two had even seen me the other day talking to the other group of people. They had no idea what these groups were that I was speaking of. Rewind. I explained the purpose, etc. just as I had done on Thursday. I figured I would go ahead and explain them broadly and then jump in with my first group interaction—learning each other’s stories.

I started. Where do I begin? Lord, which part of my story should I share? What words do you want to use to minster to these people? It’s all in vein if not of You and for You. I felt a bit like I was talking to people who could care less. I refuse to believe so. I’m praying as I’m talking.

I realize that speaking one on one allows me to feel more effective. This group setting is just odd. Not group settings as a whole, because in the states I am perfectly comfortable, but here, now, it was odd. People stopping, listening, leaving. Baby’s crying, pooping, spitting. Always a couple glued to me, others out of pure curiosity of someone so different than them. Conversation broken into sentences, just enough time to either fully think about what you are to say next or completely forget where you were going all together. The beauty of translation. I long to be able to just bust out in their language and fully understand what they are pouring out to me. God knows.

The meeting didn’t really consist of the actual structure I had hoped for, or thought it could look like. God knew that, too. I was glad to have a few bold enough to share what they understood of me asking about their “story”, even after giving examples in my own life. Poverty and sickness. They wanted me to know that what they struggle with is poverty and sickness. I thanked them for sharing. It’s hard because I see in most of their eyes they want more than to just be heard. They want it to be fixed. My heart screams for them to wait, that I know who can fix it!! He brings an abundance of wealth and heals the sick…Eternal wealth and Spiritual Healing. Not now, He says. His timing is perfect.

I struggled to get interaction going. Struggled at best. I was so thankful for the one lady smack dab in the front of me that had a huge toothless smile, that was the first one to share each time I encouraged responses, and seemed genuinely invested in being there. Hope. He knew I needed it.

There simply wasn’t much more to do for today’s time. Dragging it out for my own need of accomplishment would have done no good other. I told them I was going to close us in prayer and asked if there was anything else they wanted to share or ask. An elderly lady in the back spoke up so softly even the translator couldn’t hear.

It so often seems to be the very last minute things, from the soft spoken ones that God brings my awareness to. Listen, Jessica.

She was a visitor at this market. She lives in a town up the road where there is just a road side market (I’m told afterwards it’s not enough to consider a market) that she and about 4 others sell things. She belongs to a church there. She and her 4 friends have wanted discipleship, could I come to her place to meet with them??

Could I? Can I, Lord? I’m being invited. It’s wanted. It is wanted. I tell her I will get her name and see if that is a possibility. You have to want growth for growth to happen. This woman spoke up saying she wanted help to grow in the Word. Who am I? Who am I to be asked to help with such an essential, crucial role in the life of a believer? Oh, how I am humbled. God knew.

So, I will have to see what comes of this. My heart desires to meet the need where it is welcomed.

I pray and close it up. Up walk 2 ladies from the other day. They had just returned. Come to find out not only is it market day but there was also a funeral that many were attending. I was reaffirmed that Saturday at noon was a good day and time. I will trust them and will return next week at the same time and will dive into the Word with whoever is there. I wonder if there will be any consistency.

It’s simply the first one. Be all here, right now. I so easily jump ahead to my hope of the end result. Hopes are good as long as they are not a hindrance to the process of getting there.

I have a lot of praying and discussion with the Lord to do. I simply want it to be doable and successful in order to meet their needs. I trust He will show me, as long as I keep asking.

I get back and am so tired, but my mind is just a going. It had only been like an hour and a half since leaving, yet it seemed like I had a day worth of things to process.

I decided to take the chance of taking a nap. There is always risk in this knowing myself and how I most often wake up from naps in a funky mood. It was worth the risk I was so tired. I can do this. Heat has nothing on me.

I lost. It had everything on me. I couldn’t bear to lie in my bed for longer than an hour and that was with making me stay under that white covering of a mosquito net that long. I think I maybe slept 25 minutes if you add all of the snippets of sleep/daydreaming together. The oh, so familiar feeling of be drenched was there upon my waking. Along with it was the funky mood. Not bad, just funky.

Hardly anyone was around. I walked around the compound just to get some air and decided to do my Bible Study that I didn’t finish from yesterday. Preparing to be the Bride of Christ. I just love it. Of course, I catch myself drifting off into prayer or thought about the Lord’s will for my life and a partner—someone to serve with and seek the Lord together as one. You’d be surprised, or maybe you wouldn’t, at how often I am surrendering that to the Lord here. I mean, I’m in Sudan serving the Lord as a single gal, joyfully and contentedly so. That being said, there are most definitely things that catch my attention about how lovely it’d be to have someone by my side with the same heart.

God is so cool. Marriage. It’s all about Him. What a privilege to be His bride, expectantly awaiting His return!!

So, then I decide to continue reading The Poisonwood Bible. It’s one of the books I found here in my room when I arrived. I had seemed to remember hearing somewhere that it was a good book, so I thought I’d give it a try. It’s about a Southern Baptist Preacher, his wife, and their 4 girls in the 60’s who went to be missionaries in the Congo. I had no idea that’s what it was about when I picked it up. I was sucked in quickly.

I found myself reading for hours today, stopping every so often to just look up and study my surroundings. Here I was in Sudan, Africa in the year of 2011 reading a fictional book about a family in the 60’s in the middle of the Congo and relating to most everything culturally I’m reading!!! I found myself relating better to words on a page than to most humans I try to explain things to regarding being here, really being anywhere the Lord directs me.

It was the oddest, yet comforting thing. I had my “Wow. I’m in Sudan.” moment again. They come every now and then when I step back and it’s as if the Lord allows my brain to actually process a bit more of reality. I am half way around the world from….fill in the blank. Yet, I’m not, too. I have people I love here. I have things I love here. I have good days here. I have bad days here. It really is something to be processed. Today is the first day I’ve really found my mind wondering to thoughts of wanting to be home. Is it because of circumstantial hardships? Probably in part. The tug and war of having your heart in two places is tough. Outside of this world though, I stand just as firm today as I did the night God broke me 8 months ago, letting me know His desire for me to be here in Sudan. My heart is betrothed to one Person, and that is my Lord Jesus Christ. Where He goes, I will go. Where He leads, I will follow. I pray there will never be a day that ANY earthly desires of mine prevent me from going where He leads me.

Some days just are.