In Which I Make an Idiot of Myself

I have two friends about to set off to Haiti. Our church is also sending a team to Haiti this next month. Another friend is currently in Africa, a place I have been absolutely longing to go again. Now that I am older and have matured in my relationship with God, I want to go back to a continent I love and share fellowship with God's people there, and perhaps share the gospel and God's love with the people there who don't know Him. Every time we have missionaries come through, I have to battle with huge desire welling up within me to join them on the overseas mission field, except in Africa. But I can't. I am married, and my first priority is my husband and my darling little boy. So I am waiting. Perhaps someday, I can. Maybe I never will. It is rather hard, this waiting. In case this sounds like another depressing post, it isn't. Because I'm about to tell you about how I embarrass myself.

Last night, Scott and I were able to attend a small group meeting. We've been to the house of the hosts a few times before, but every time, small groups itself was either canceled, or people just couldn't make it. So last night, we got to meet several people whom we'd not been able to meet before. One of these people was a sweet, quiet young lady. As soon as I saw her face, I instantly snapped to attention because her features looked quite a lot like someone from Africa. My guess was confirmed when she began to speak, there was the soft African accent I was half expecting. She had come in right before we gathered around the table for the study, so there were no introductions. The entire time, I was trying hard not to look too long at her, I was absolutely thrilled she was there, and thinking how I could casually introduce my family and I to her without seeming strange.

 The study went for a long time, and at one point, a discussion came up about the sermon preached that morning. The pastor had mentioned how full of life and how in love with God many believers in third-world countries seemed to be, while we here in America often struggle with complacency and being stagnant in our walks with God. I saw my chance. Without thinking, as soon as there was an appropriate pause and a perfect opportunity, I blurted out that I had been to Malawi and been able to see just how wonderful and full of life those precious people were. I felt awkward, and my ears were hot and burning, as I kept talking, trying to stop myself with a good ending. I knew I was just trying to talk to the Kenyan across from me, trying to show her that I was interested in Africa and wanted to meet her. I must not have sounded too bad, since the rest of the group nodded seriously and took up what I had said with other examples of their own. 

Finally, around 8:20, the study wrapped up with a prayer and we began getting ready to leave to get Micah home to bed. There wasn't much time, and I badly wanted to meet the young lady, so I quickly ran up, and said,
"Hi, your name is Arafa*?"
"Yes..."
"I'm Erin, and that's my husband Scott and my son Micah!" I babbled, a little too quickly.
"Nice to meet you," She smiled slightly and shook my hand. There was a pause. Again, my mouth spoke before my mind. Slightly desperate to make some kind of conversation, and hardly able to contain my excitement, I looked at her and said,
"So, you're from KENYA?!? That's awesome!" She nodded quietly, there was another pause, and then she turned her attention to the conversation going on at the table. I came away mentally kicking and berating myself. What a moron.

I'm afraid I probably blew my chance to get to know her. I'm still feeling embarrassed as I write this. But I am so very glad she is in our small groups. Perhaps someday, she'll forget the weird, awkward introduction with which I attacked her. Someday.

"Oh my!"

Here's a little something to lighten up the tone I've taken with writing lately. Enjoy!


And yes. He was playing with mismatched socks. And I moved them and replaced them with a cute teddy bear in the second video. ;-)

This is a Pitiful Cry for Help

Sometimes, I long for eternity to come.

I am longing to meet Jesus, face to face.

I am longing to be home, where I will spend eternity with Him, and with all my dear friends who also love Him.

I am so tired of how transient life is. I desperately want a place to call "home" here on earth. A place that is familiar, solid, that will always be there, and to which I will always be able to return. It tears me up to have to continually make precious new friends, wonderful fellowship, and then to leave and not ever return to the way things were. I am grieving for it all right now - for the people we have loved and left behind, again; for the sweet memories we have made and may never again be able to revisit; even for the smallest things - from seeing moose roam everywhere in the spring, to driving out with a friend trying to capture the Aurora on camera, to shivering our way to the warm house of friends who understand how tough it is to live with 50 below zero outside and darkness that lasts all day. I am grasping for something familiar here in this new place, and am having a difficult time finding it. I have gone through this process so many times, and it never gets easier. In fact, it rather seems to get harder every time. And I know it's going to keep happening over and over again. So, I am tired.

I know deep down that I am not the only one facing this. Everyone goes through difficult changes in life. I know that the people who are blessed to stay in one place their whole lives have to watch the dear ones they love leave, for good. There are those who lose a loved one from this life completely. Even small changes - children changing and growing, leaving their mothers crying out to re-live just another few moments with their sweet, tiny babies. I am struggling so hard to remember that there is someone else hurting tonight, too.

I do know that despite how hard things are, I must still cling to my Lord. Right now I am trying to hold on to Him, but I feel as though I am drowning, just barely hanging on by a thread. My very human flesh wants to give up. I am praying that He takes hold of me and doesn't let me fall. Because I am wretched and weak and I can't do it alone.

And I am so sorry to all who are also going through a difficult time. It seems so petty and selfish of me to be barely holding it together through my own trial, when there are so many who are going through far worse.

The only encouragement I have to offer you, that I absolutely know to be true is this: someday, we WILL all come home. And there will be no more pain, no more sorrow. There will only be huge joy, resting in the arms of our Saviour.