life.

The page is blank and the words won't come. The cursor blinks...waiting....waiting.....The wall is hard and I would bang on it until it gives. Until the dam breaks. Until there is...something...more. The battle rages and I want to be back in the heat of it. Back where the days were uncertain and full. Where things were before me that were tangible.

I am blessed. Blessed for this time with a life of stillness. Yet, more than the stillness there is an ache inside the deepest part of my soul for more. 

I have lived on the mission field. I have seen what it is to live what others romanticize. It is not romantic. It is life. Life is simply life, no matter where you are, no matter what you are doing. There are in and out moments, normal moments, frustrating moments, moments when you wonder why you chose this, because you are giving, giving, giving, and it is taking, taking, taking, and you are tired into the deepest place your bones hold....yet....yet, you wouldn't change it. For the moments that shine with brilliant beauty, where God speaks into your heart clearer than ever before, where children with black hair and slanted eyes stare at you, loving you, just wanting to be near you...this is all worth the aching bone weariness of being in a place like this, across a vast sea, in a land where time moves differently, where traditions are strange, where people expect more from you. 

I have lived this. I have fallen in love with children that no longer remember my name or face. Years have passed and I have been lost in their lives to an ocean of time passing, missionaries coming and going. Yet, their names, their faces, these are etched across the grooves of my heart. I have known what it is to feel alone, adrift in a sea of black haired, beautiful people. I found in those moments, the gaze of my Father was stronger still, wrapping me in all He was, holding me tight. 

I ache for this. I am not meant to live the kind of life that is comfortable and quiet and still. And this is currently the life I have for this season, so I know that even in this there is something He would teach me. Some lesson to be learned. For every fiber of my being cries out with a longing and ache to move, go, do, be His hands and feet. Be His mouth. To live outside of bubbles and comfort zones, to be pulled and pushed and stretched beyond myself. 

This is what I have lived and because I know the pain that comes with it, with the stretching and pulling and molding, I do not say it all lightly. But, I know that this is what I was made for. I am happiest when I am the furthest out of my comfort zone, when I am being poured out and used up and spent, when I fall into bed at night weary and worn and asleep before my head hits the pillow. So, this life I currently live of stillness and calm, of time that is mine to fill, to have the choice of what I will do, in all of this I am blessed and it is beautiful and I absolutely adore it. And those around me look at where I live, what I do, and they tell me how wonderful my life is. I know. Truly. I am in love with every moment...yet, that sense of being displaced, of knowing there will be more, it whispers to me in the stillness of the night. 

In the deep, when stars burn bright and time stands still, His voice tells of more, of all He is teaching in the waiting, of aches that are deep and pain that is stronger than any I've known. For the waiting has brought lessons that the pouring out has not taught...and they have been hard. I have found that when I am alone, still, unmoving before my God, this is where the stretching and molding are the strongest. Stronger than living in lands far away, on mission fields that are difficult, with children who demand more than I thought I could give, but gave still. It is the quiet that shows the inner depths of my heart and it is in this place that He burns away all that He would not have there. 

Tonight is quiet. In the quiet the ache is strong, as if it is a living thing, tangible, not ever letting me forget. Good. I don't want to forget, I don't want to become so comfortable that I will not go when He asks. I would live fully in this moment, in this season, discovering the beauty and joy that He will give, but always, always, I want to be ready when the season shifts, when the choice is laid before me, hard but clear. To count the cost, give up the comfort, and go. Be it across oceans or not. Be it in countries far away or in my own. 

The point is not where we are, but how willing we are to do just what He asks. For nothing is small, nothing is meaningless when we do it unto the God who asks and loves us beyond all we can comprehend. 

These are the thoughts that come in the dark of the night, in the midst of a move to a beautiful new home. 

How blessed I am, how much I long for, how faithful my Father is to all of this. And I am content to wait upon Him. For waiting upon our God is doing far more than we can ever imagine.