29 Oct 2009.
(This one will resonate with Jon and Alonso, especially.)
I wonder often why the Lord chooses to plop those of us who’s hearts long for the simplicity of trees and green grass into the myriad of concrete jungles of broken cement, rusty iron, and shattered glass. Everywhere I look there is rotting garbage, piled high and emitting sweet, putrid fumes. Horns or “claxons” accent the peppy merengue blasted from campaign cars and fruit sellers alike, while the steady, high-pitched growl of delivery motor-bikes mingle with shouts and whistles of working people. Bustle—fast—frenetic pace. Bright, hot, and vibrant. Crowded, pushing, insane, lonely.
On days like these, I feel like an old woman: I sit in my rocker taking in the sights and sounds available to me from the street below my balcony, but when I close my eyes, I see the rolling green hills and mountains of Iguala, Guerrero, and the tall, quiet trees that line the rivers through there; the place I would have chosen to be born and have deep, nourished roots, had I been given a choice in the matter.
Oh Lord, in this moment of vulnerability, I turn to you as my heart becomes overwhelmed by the fears of an unknown city, a new place. Lord, you are my shepherd—when my heart is overwhelmed, you lead me to the Rock that is Higher than I. There is nothing I need fear. You have been my refuge and my strong tower against the foes that try to sway me and frustrate my joy. You have been to me the path of Life. Fill me now with joy in your presence, satisfy me, restore my soul, liberate me from all anxieties. In you are the still, quiet waters so necessary for life. In these waters I find my true self—I find that I am naked before you—I find that in you, I am everything I need to be. River of Life, let me soak in you.
2 comments:
Oh, Alli, how often I wondered why a country girl like me who grew up in a place named Dinwiddie (of all names!) ended up in one of the hugest cities of the world! And, after all my wondering, I sit in a small, quiet Texas town and I often long for the shrill whistle of the camote wagon's arrival, or the clanging bell of the trash truck. I suppose we'll always have longings in our hearts as we long for that permanent dwelling place He promises us. Do you suppose we'll get any tacos al pastor there?!?! :)
We'll be following your adventure and praying for you each step of the way!
Oh sister, the gentle flowing waters of the mountain streams echo on even while our presence goes unnoticed amongst them. Though in the shadow of our mind, a beautifully recorded video replays the scents, the sounds, the weather, the serenity, the bustling cold of an early morning. Our hearts are not far from such places, only our bodies bind us to the world in which we live and work and play. And play we must :) My heart is not far from yours sister.
May your ministry be effective.
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