Labor of Love
A groan of anguish seeks to escape—
I barely contain it.
Why, why, WHY
Why does it feel so broken?
This was to be a joyful reunion,
A celebration of the fruit of many years—
Yet here is heartache in the happiness…
A groan of anguish seeks to escape—
I barely contain it.
Why, why, WHY
Why does it feel so broken?
This was to be a joyful reunion,
A celebration of the fruit of many years—
Yet here is heartache in the happiness…
Have you ever been
Simply
Forgotten?
Sitting
Like a dusty jewelry box
On a shelf,
Waiting
To be remembered,
To be meaningful…
I felt lost without many of the identity markers that had defined me for so much of my life. Missionary kid. Foreigner…
I often get the question, “Do you like Uganda or America more?” I’ve used this question many times to explain to people that I love both since both are home, but neither is home…
And then there are the little things, such as a thoughtless comment about the pronunciation of the “r” that hits us where we are most vulnerable. It hurts us, despite not being a big deal…
Asking one identity question seemed to open the door for more, similar ones. What started as, “Am I really a straight-A student?” turned into, “Am I even smart?” A whole dam of questions unleashed…
If there is one thing that still binds people into groups of “Us” and “Them,” it is culture. Culture is oftentimes the heart of a people.
God has spoken to me before in both English and German. I understand better now that it doesn’t matter if I can’t define the language of my heart.
The hardest thing is missing the places and people you grew up with and knowing that even if you go back, it will never be the same.