A Little Transparency

Month five here has been a little harder than the first four. One of the biggest reasons being that life has slowed down a lot, and those of you who know me well at all, probably recognize that was not a change of pace I invited.

The vet I've been volunteering for has discontinued his relationship with the shelter for whom I was spaying and neutering. And the organization for women from prison I was working with, Free Hands, got evicted from their building and is now in an extended transition to a new one. Not only have these changes left me with more free time, but also a lack of a sense of purpose. I feel in a way, and to some degree, God is stripping me of everything I have to offer to remind me that it's not about me, or in my strength that I have anything worth sharing.

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." -2 Corinthians 12:9

Then today at an afternoon women's retreat we focused on Psalm 23.

"The LORD is my shepherd,

I shall not want.

He makes me lie down in green pastures;

He leads me beside quiet waters.

He restores my soul;

He guides me in the paths of righteousness

For His name's sake."

-Psalm 23:1-3

One of the highlights for me was the attention we paid to the word "makes." For some of us who resemble the Biblical personality Martha more than Mary, sometimes He has to make us stop doing and serving and going, so that He can restore our soul. (For the Marys out there, some translations read "lets" instead, indicating that there's no need to feel guilty lying in a green pasture, for those to whom it does come more naturally.) This seems to be a season of quiet waters, before the rush of activity March will bring with the move and the new job.

In other news, at the Girl's Day Out today, I also cried for my first time in Bolivia. As a thinker instead of a feeler, when I arrived I probably semi-consciously chose not to go through culture shock, and in doing so decided that crying at all might open a flood gate of emotion, so it was to be avoided as well. But this stoicity had gone on long enough. So today, in a room brimming with estrogen, surrounded by nearly thirty teary missionary women, I gave in to peer pressure. No. No pressure, just real women with real stories of difficult adoptions, a father with cancer, and the realization that the Free Hands ladies are out of work and not able to provide for their families since the eviction. Also touching, were the beautiful voices of these ladies rising to God in unified praise, and the remembrance of just how worthy He is of our adoration.