Today marks the 4 year anniversary of leaving a place very dear to me: Namwianga. I am torn about how to feel because society says things like, "Don't cry because it is over, smile because it happened." Well that is all well and good, but I believe that there is a time for everything: "...a time to weep, and a time to laugh, a time to mourn, and a time to dance..."
So today I mourn for a time that I will never get back. I mourn for children I will never hold again. I mourn for friends that I will never see or hear from again on this earth. I mourn for adventures that are over and for lessons that have been long learned now. I mourn for the relationships that I had with my classmates that have dimmed over the span of time and distance. I mourn as I read through my Zambian journal and remember the goodbyes that I wrote about:
"As I was walking away, she told me to wait and asked for a kiss. I kissed her on the cheek and she didn't wipe it off. There is no word to describe how much I love that 5 year old girl. She told me that she loved me too."
"I said, 'I love you.' He said, 'I love you.' Then I asked for kiss and he gave me one. I have never been so happy to have the snotty face of a little boy pushed up against mine as I was in that moment."
"...we drove down that beautiful tree lined road to the Havens and my heart shattered. I will never have this again."
But I do not mourn as those who have no hope. I have the hope that just as Jesus promised, those who mourn will be comforted. I have hope that I will have something better after this world, even if I will never have it again in this world.
This is a poem that I wrote just after I arrived back in the States. I still long for this.
So today I mourn for a time that I will never get back. I mourn for children I will never hold again. I mourn for friends that I will never see or hear from again on this earth. I mourn for adventures that are over and for lessons that have been long learned now. I mourn for the relationships that I had with my classmates that have dimmed over the span of time and distance. I mourn as I read through my Zambian journal and remember the goodbyes that I wrote about:
"As I was walking away, she told me to wait and asked for a kiss. I kissed her on the cheek and she didn't wipe it off. There is no word to describe how much I love that 5 year old girl. She told me that she loved me too."
"I said, 'I love you.' He said, 'I love you.' Then I asked for kiss and he gave me one. I have never been so happy to have the snotty face of a little boy pushed up against mine as I was in that moment."
"...we drove down that beautiful tree lined road to the Havens and my heart shattered. I will never have this again."
But I do not mourn as those who have no hope. I have the hope that just as Jesus promised, those who mourn will be comforted. I have hope that I will have something better after this world, even if I will never have it again in this world.
This is a poem that I wrote just after I arrived back in the States. I still long for this.
Return
I want to see the Jacarandas, Bright
above the sand.
I want to walk a mile just to
hold a tiny hand.
I want to sing and dance and talk
Where people understand.
I want to leave the task by task,
Return to that still land.
I long to feel connections and
not minutes slipping past.
I long to comfort those in pain,
not stare with eyes aghast.
I long to walk and pray and dwell
On things I know will last.
I long to be a hand of God,
Help the weak to hold Him fast.
But I’m not there, for I am here
so distant from my heart.
I have to face the future,
seeking what life can impart.
I want to remember everything,
With mem’ry I’ll not part.
I’ll use the past and clean the
slate,
Give this place a fresh new
start.
So, I’ll see the Jacaranda’s
warmth in a smile so sweet, unplanned.
I’ll walk many more miles holding
to a larger hand.
I’ll go and sing and dance and
talk,
Help people understand.
As I wait, someday I know I will
Return to that still land.
