When we pack for the short term my family packs our essentials in the carry on bag then leave various items behind on purpose.
Eventually we will be packing for the long haul. A relocation. An uprooting. My husband thinks about items that we can down now and leave at the property until we come home. I let him ponder the issue. My only stake is this. If we bring our *stuff* down now won't it take away from what we can give now? He will conceed and we will pack the items needed for the village.
How do I even begin to pack for my bonus son? He has his classic nintendos and playstations. With his aspergerest tendencies I know that when we relocate that will be his balm and transition.
So I pray for preparation and wisdom for our short term trips and the eventual relocation.
With this prayer comes the emotional baggage. This is the hardest part to write about. How can I as a shattered woman with a colorful past come face to face with a dream, a calling much bigger than I could ever envision. How could God take my brokeness and use it for whatever it is I am supposed to do there. I tell some of my close friends that I am not a missionary but we are retiring to Nica. That is easier to handle. How can God use me. I have been divorced. I have been the woman at the well. I have lost everything and in turn gained Jesus. I am not shiny. I am not...
And in the midst of the P word (preparation) He has me in therapy. Deep, intense and dare I say freeing? Individual and couple therapy :)...Thanks God
On our short term trip a month ago I wore sleeveless shirts. There are tattoos covering my upper body. In another culture especially Nica it is considered Malo. BAD. I had kept them covered up in the past like most of my life. Covered, Hidden, and Unspoken.
On my left upper arm there are three birds lifting a young girl to safety from the storm clouds below. It is personal testimony of how God rescued me as a child..
I was exposed...baggage...broken...turned to art work...turned to a gift.
During the trip we were visiting families in the village. We intentionally went to one home to talk and share news. While there the woman shyly shared the baby bird she was raising by hand. I am stopped short. In the immense poverty of barely being able to eat she is caring for another creature...and in that realization I saw that God again was whispering my name. In haste I pointed to my birds in tears and she wanted to give me the baby bird as a gift...
I couldn't take the bird with me but she is going to continue raising it until we come home. She kissed both of my cheeks wiped my tears and we hugged.
Packing, unpacking. Baggage and a bird.
And honestly I wouldn't have it any other way...
http://velvetashes.com/the-grove-pack/
