Last weekend we had the opportunity to go to a church in the village to lead a time of ministry, prayer and worship.
Just the thought of it made me squirm in my seat and start going into the fetal position.
Normally, I would totally jump on it. Yea, the village is hotter than all get-out, dusty, dirty, and usually not a short trip, BUT the ministry is SO worth it. Worth every minute and every liter of sweat lost.
We've seen miraculous healing on the spot, demons cast out, and hope rising in so many people when we take the time to do one-on-one or small group prayer and ministry in the villages. It's a time full of joy and it is amazing to be a part of.
But last week: no. Nope. I just didn't want to go.
And then I felt bad. Kind of really bad.
And so I apologized to God for thinking that way. For being so quick to say, "No" and "I don't wanna," in my whiny voice.
And you know what he said? "It's okay. It's okay because you're not okay. And that's OKAY."
And then I started crying.
His presence does that to me sometimes. Most times.
While I wept, He kept speaking softly to me and I could nearly feel his arms wrap around me.
"It's okay that you're not okay. I know that it is taking all that you have to function in the day-to-day. When you're not okay, you can't expect to have enough to give above and beyond. And that's okay."
"But--" I stammered, "This is what we're here for! We didn't move our family half-way across the world to just do the day-to-day!"
"Yes you did." He reminded me. "Taking care of you, and your family is first priority above any other ministry opportunities or jobs. There will be plenty of trips to the village."
I don't know why I'm not okay. I thought I was, and then it just crept up on me. Again. It's been over two months since we lost the baby, I thought I had plenty of grieving, but apparently not.
It really does take everything I have to just make it through the day - being a wife, mom and teacher. Yea, it's physically exhausting, but it's so much more emotionally draining than I thought it would be at this stage.
I hate not being okay. I hate not being myself. Most days I want nothing more than to sit back, stare at a fire, cuddled under a blanket with a glass of wine in hand and just think. Talk to God. Think some more. Decompress and breathe. Oh, to breathe! But life goes on, and so must I.
But God will redeem this too. He always does.
Someone needed to read this post. Someone will need to hear my story of loosing a child at three months gestation while living in a third world country. Someone will need to know how I talk to our three year old son, weekly, about the baby and when we're going to get another one in my belly. Someone will need to hear that God redeemed this whole, awful, terrible mess. And even if it brings one person closer to God,
it will be worth it that
I wasn't okay
for a while.