Its Time

I haven't been totally honest with all of you this year. When I look back at last years posts here, I can feel the emotions rise up again inside of me. I desperately clung to God and poured my heart out to all of you in the times when I felt utterly hopeless. I faced giant bouts of heartache and was miraculously lifted again and again from the despair that threatened to swallow me. This year though, it feels different. I don't feel as connected, I'm missing the sense of realness I had last year, even if that connectedness came with the cost of tears.

The glimpses I have had into true emotion have been over the kids from last year. Maurice, Luc, Anicette, Maomi... The problem with that, is that all of these stories have ended with them dying. Without God, the human heart cannot take this pain. With only a little God, the heart can bear it for a time, but not remain open, never mind free to love, and certainly not with the abandon required to live here and be effective. I thought I had a good handle on it, I thought I knew how to deal with all of this weight. Turns out I don't think I do. I haven't been as desperate for God like I was last year. I haven't given Him the chance to weave these children's stories, which now include theirs deaths, into beautiful lessons. I won't think about Anicette. I can't. It physically hurts me to think about her. I was thankful I missed the community meeting when they showed footage from last year of her in her village. It was from the day I was there right at the end of Benin. What I call the best day of my life.
I can't stop crying thinking about it, yet I still don't want to deal with it, or at least I didn't until now. These tears, as I type, confirm what God has been whispering to me lately.

Its time, Suzanne. You have to face it. If you don't see the beauty in the lives and deaths of those you loved, you will deny Me the power to heal your heart. You won't be able to love like I know you can.

My old self used to go into self-protection mode when my heart was broken. I shut people out, quietly and politely, all while building up walls. I let God in and everything changed. Something changed though, this year it hasn't been the same, except for the brief moments I let myself feel again for those precious ones from Benin.
I go through the actions, I still show love, yet I am so scared when I feel my heart open to Kossi, our Burkitt's patient whose tumor is refusing to grow smaller.
To be honest, I am so tired of experiencing the death of children. Anicette wasn't supposed to die, she was my joy, her mama was so good, I loved her so much. Luc was so funny, his brother and sister loved him so much. His parents wanted him to be president, I wanted to hug him again.
Writing it down makes me realize so many things. Unless I let go, unless I call on God to consume my thoughts and lift my soul, this will never end. I will never move on. This all manifests itself in a variety of ways, for me its been blatantly obvious. Leave it to God to use a little girl to help me.

Akossiwa was badly burned as a baby and now she is around 2 and a half years old. She only has one full arm, her right one lost above the elbow to injuries from the fire. She has a little fro of hair, interrupted only by a burn scar on her scalp. She has another small mark on her left cheek, a smooth, black scar. We released contractures in her hips and her side where the burn was the worst. Over the last weeks this little girl has found her way into the parts of my heart I was trying to protect. I laughed at her genuinely when she would scoot her way into my lap after vein attempts to put her back into bed. I marveled at the way she smiled, and how cute her little feet were when she crossed her legs at her ankles anytime she was sitting down. I held her close when she would rest her head on my chest while I sat at the computer. When I would walk into A ward I was greeted by little Akossiwa lifting her good arm and small stump up in anticipation for a cuddle. I couldn't resist the curly eyelashes, raised eyebrows, and nodding head for more than a moment. I realized quickly that I loved her. I didn't just show her love, I loved her deeply and truly. I kissed her cheek over and over again, the smoothness of her scars beneath my lips. I sang to her and listened to her babble, lost in her own world at times. Her discharge was yesterday and I went in to tell her mama I was praying for her, that I saw something special in her, and I knew God would use her to do great things.

He already had.

I don't try to figure out why He chose her, but even if I did I know it would make perfect sense. After weeks of feeling defeated by how people are forced to live here, sending off a dying boy to sit in a long, hot bus ride north, and dwelling on sad news from Benin, I know God intended for this little girl to break down the walls that started to grow again.

Lets go, God. I'm ready.

The battle line is drawn, it's all in black and white.
Hope is pulling forward, can feel it from behind, it's time.
It's time to make a move, so what will you decide?
The clock is ticking on, don't let it pass you by, it's time.
It's time.

The time is now, for lifting souls.
The time is now, for letting go.
From your skin, to your core.
Let light, and love, come rushing through the door.
Oh, come rushing through the door.

It's time to hold your shield,
It's time to draw your sword,
Let's lead the resistance,
Oh Lord, oh Lord, oh Lord, it's time.
Yeah it's time.

It's time to make a stand, to put your heart in greater hands,
From your skin, to your core,
Let light, and love, come rushing through the door.

Sisters, Brothers, thieves, and lovers,
Come on, come on, eternity
Turn your faces, with fine eyed places,
Heaven's grace will set you free.

The time is now, for lifting souls.
The time is now, for letting go.
From your skin, to your core.
Let light, and love, come rushing through the door.

-The Time is Now, Phil Wickham