An Unromantic Reality

I read this blog post by my friend a few days ago, and all the teachers agreed wholeheartedly with its content. Instead of trying to re-write the sentiment in my own words Lucy agreed to let me just share the original with you. Enjoy.

'God shows up in our reality. He shows up in our weakness. His eyes are not running across the earth looking for the woman who lives in a romantic movie set of perfection. He is looking for the real, the weak, and the one who needs Him.'

Before coming here, my idea of what this year would look like was definitely geared towards the romantic movie set of perfection. The idea of pouring out love on these little ones, making their lives better and of walking hand in hand with them down dusty roads, laughing and playing with them all day because they need to be shown that attention The idea of feeling rewarded and appreciated every single second of every day. Feeling as if I matter because I'm here, feeling as if I am contributing something great to their worlds. The idea of writing back home and telling everyone how wonderful everything is and how I've never felt more at home. These ideas of course, all point to one thing. Myself. These ideas point to the misconception that I am enough. That I have enough energy, enough love, enough patience and enough joy for each day. That this year is all about me and what I am doing to help. That the reason to write back home is so that people see how wonderful I am.

Yet the reality, tells me that in no way am I enough, and in no way am I wonderful. The reality of never having enough energy. Of feeling drained and tired by 7pm, and feeling exactly the same way when I wake up in the morning. Of feeling like I have absolutely no patience and all this love that I want to give to my kids, is pushed out by frustration and weariness. The reality of not looking like someone from a movie set, in any way, shape or form. Of feeling sticky and sweaty, in cold season. Of having first graders say 'ouch' as they put their hands on my legs because I missed a spot when I shaved my legs in the shower that morning, because I was half asleep. Of spilling my coffee down my front at 6am and not getting home till 8.30pm to wash it off. The reality of missing the joy all around me, because I am too busy focussing on myself and my own ideas of what things should look like. The reality of feeling completely useless. The reality of not wanting to write back home, because I don't want to be real with people.

Then He whispers to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness'. He lifts my gaze upwards. He does not affirm that my ideas were correct. No, He tells me they were selfish and proud. He asks my who I am here for. He tells me that I am not enough, but that He is. His Joy is my Strength. A Divine Strength. He reminds me to lean on Him and depend on Him. To cast all my burdens and frustrations on Him. He prompts me to write home - not about how wonderful I am or how perfect everything is, but to write about Him. To write about what He is doing in the lives of these kids, and in my own life. He says 'Whoever welcomes one of these children in My name, welcomes me'. I am to welcome them in His name and in His power. Not in my own name.

So here it is - the reality of living here is hard. I love it, and I wouldn't change it, but it is hard. But, God is doing wonderful things here. He is working and He is being faithful. He is teaching me and growing me, and He is speaking into the lives of these kids.

And of course - there is always a little bit of time and energy for some cuddling!