Saturday, September 15, 2012

A Pervading Ache for A People I Love

Everyday we wake up and we have no idea what the day will bring. There is always the potential for amazing joys and gladness, which is our hope, but some days also have some sadness. Today is one of those days. I rejoice because I just came home from a bonfire on Huntington Beach. Talk about the good life. Around 45 Fuller students were there as we soaked up some sun, ate dinner together, and cooked s'mores on a beach bonfire. It was like an episode of the OC except we all love Jesus and weren't dressed so fancy. It was an amazing time of community and simply refreshing to be by the open water and the cool breeze.

But my heart is so sad. It is like I can't shake it. I don't want to forget about the reservation, but every day my heart aches for my students there and I can't focus on anything else. I get a call at 4am or a facebook post and I immediately go into worry mode, wondering if my kids are ok, if they are getting into trouble, if they are on the right path. And then I get an email that tells me that everything is falling apart. My Apache girls, that I love so much, are splintering and I am not there to catch them. Reading that update it took every ounce of sense in my body not to pack up my things and move to the reservation immediately. I cried because I have such hope for them and I just wanted to go, because my girls need me. I just know that if I was there then maybe I could help them, heal their relationships, be that listening ear and guiding hand.

Yet I am not there. I am here. And it hurts so much I can hardly stand it. How can I live my life here when my Apache kids are falling left and right?

I know that God has placed me at Fuller and that my learning here enables me to help better. I know that I could move to the rez right this minute but that I still couldn't fix all my kids. But all the same, I love these kids like they are my own. I understand why they do the crap they do and I believe that if I was there then I could help them. I would at least have the chance.

So what do I do? I sit, rather helplessly, here in Pasadena, praying fervently that God is where I cannot be. I pray that He will pick up my kids and move them in the right direction, that He will do what I cannot.

It is a dilemma, because I don't want to pray that my heart ceases to hurt for them, but at the same time, how can I care for them and live my life here?

It is a lot of questions, and right now I don't feel like I  have a whole lot of answers. 

2 comments:

  1. Welcome to the club - it means you have a pastoral/nurturing heart. Many of us feel the same way, specifically at Fuller, torn between worlds where people "need" us and the luxury of *studying* about/for the people who will one day need us.
    Good luck with all this.

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  2. ...i am sitting with you...and the Holy Spirit is sitting with both of us...and we are praying together for your girls to Him Who is standing beside the throne of God...and none of us are alone...i love you elaine/ccww

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