when the world is shaken

There is this song we used to sing at chapel in college, the only words I can remember are: “Refuge, You’re my refuge… When the world is shaken and nothing stands, I will hold on to your hand, Refuge…” That’s the gist of the chorus. I can’t remember any other part of the song, but those words have stuck with me. They come floating back into my heart, my mind & my voice in times like these…

I return to Kenya in two weeks time. I am scared, shaken, enthused and exhausted. My mind is whirling with borrowed trouble from tomorrow, the next day, and the day after that. My heart aches, literally. What if I don’t like it this time? What if something bad happens? Or even worse—what if I love it even more, and resent being back in the states all the more when I come back again?

My heart not only aches for Kenya, but with the deep, longing desire to love & be loved (what is apparently becoming the theme of this blog, although entirely unintended!). I wonder if my inability to feel settled here, in the States, could be quenched with a good dose of domesticity. A man to care for, sharing the dream & hope of having children of our own to love & raise…working side by side together, whether here or in Africa again… or both? Maybe I am feeling that built-in need most women feel to put down roots, to have a stable foundation I can spring up from. The proverbial biological clock is ticking away!

I spoke with a close, wise friend about these troubles tonight. She has known me for years, and shares the same, deep spiritual faith as I, that no matter what, in times like these, there is One who is right next to us, guiding us, even when we don’t understand everything that’s going on. A few thoughts she shared with me: one, is that hopefully this trip to Africa will bring with it a lot of closure from the first time I was there. I like this thought, so much, in fact that tears instantly rolled down my cheeks at her suggestion of it. I hadn’t thought of that, but it could be very true, and apparently very needed. Secondly, and maybe most poignant: that some of these matters of the heart are not my decision to make. That I am taking on too many huge life things right now that I don’t need to worry about, especially considering I have chosen a Savior who has asked me to let Him bear these burdens.

A deep, chest sized sigh of relief flows out of me. Christ has asked me to bear only his load, which is easy & light… and he will take on all the hard stuff for me… because he loves me. He cares for me, and wants the best for me. Another sigh, as I let this truth settle into my bones.

I named this blog “Alita’s Refuge” because that song has become a theme song of my life. I can’t remember all the words, but I remember the important ones. Christ is my refuge. When the world is shaken and nothing stands, like it seems to be right now, I can, and will hold on to his hand. He’s my refuge.

Father's Love

Sunday afternoon I found myself pulling weeds and grass out of the flower beds at my Great Aunt’s house in Salem. It was hot—about 91 degrees outside. My mom and I were preparing for my brother’s wedding, only one week away!

My mind wondered throughout different thoughts, but settled on one—Love. Considering we were preparing for a wedding, that seemed the most appropriate. I first thought about how our act of service was an act of love—not only for my brother and Becca’s wedding, but also for my Great Aunt. It is a burden to ask a couple in their 80’s to host a wedding. My aunt & uncle are not your typical 80 some-odd-year-olds, but as amazingly active and talented as they are, it wouldn’t even be right for our family to leave all the wedding preparations around the house up to the two of them!

So, here we were, loving Auntie Moe & Uncle Wayne by wedding their flower beds… I then realized we were also serving Adam & Becca by weeding for their wedding. They are both busy, working over full time at new jobs to save for their new life together. We chose to show our support by taking time to help them prepare. Thinking about them turned my thoughts to their love for each other. I am over joyed that my brother found the right girl to spend the rest of his life with! I am so excited to be a part of their life—and the celebration that joins their life together. Their love is a testament to how sudden and yet how deep love can be.

As I knelt in the grass, imprinting my knees with blade marks and feelin’ the love, I took a mental step back to look at the big picture. Digging in the dirt somehow always brings me back to my Creator, and the Author of Love himself. I can’t think about love without somehow coming back to Him, the embodiment of love. The song, “How Great the Father’s Love for Us…” drifted through my head. It is because of his ultimate sacrifice that we know what love, true love is! Our human attempts pale in comparison to his vast, fanatic love for us!

We only get glimpses of this love throughout our lives… the joy in a toddler’s giggle… the warmth of the sunshine on our skin when we spend time with friends… the shiver that a strong embrace sends down your spine… kind words from a friend. But anyone who’s ever been in love knows that true love requires a sacrifice. “How vast beyond all measure…” is the next line in the song. We can’t even measure how vast Christ’s sacrifice for love is for us! In fact, all we can do, all we are asked to do, is accept it. Rest in it, find peace in it.

In return, he provides opportunities for us to love each other, whether by weeding some flower beds, or creating life-long covenants with each other in front of family and friends… wow! How great his love really is!

a single woman's lament

When I was 21 or 22, an elder in my life told two friends and me we were “ripe for love!” Six years later, what does that make me? Rotten? The two friends are married now, by the way…

I have come close a couple times—so close to experiencing the intimacy of sharing my life with another human, of joining with another life to become one. But each time ended in a mournful, heart sick loss. Yet, incredibly, as a testament to the human spirit, my heart still longs for that moment where I won’t lock the door at night and turn around to an empty apartment. Or go to another wedding alone or to a movie, class reunion or family holiday with a girlfriend. My patch-work heart still throbs for someone to hold me, kiss my lips and look at me with those wanting eyes!

Oh, I know it won’t always be blissful. I know there will be times I will want to rip his head off, scream my guts out and walk away! I know there might even be times when we break each other’s hearts… and I know that each morning I wake up I will still have to look at his face and make that choice to love him in spite of himself, in spite of me! But isn’t that what makes it so wonderful!?-- sharing a life full of pain and heartache, love & joy. No matter what, life will always cause pain, always foster joy, but to actually share all of that will someone is the longing of my heart.

Of course I go through times of wondering what’s wrong with me? Why can’t a guy, for once be at least as interested in me as I may be in him? Especially a guy who shares my values and even some of my dreams? It seems that the only guys who do express interest in me are half my size & twice my age, and that’s just the beginning!!! And then there are the games we are “supposed” to play. The “get him to notice you” game and the “get him to ask you out game”. UGH! I’d rather fall in love with my best friend a hundred times over rather than play a stupid dating game! There are always a few friends standing on the sidelines cheering for me—go for it, Alita! If you can’t do it, no one can! …Give me an “A”! UGH again!

There is a strange dichotomy in the life of a single person—at least this single person. I enjoy my single life very much—I enjoy making my own decisions, good or bad. I enjoy doing what I want to do when I want to do it and (mostly) answering to no one but myself at the end of the day. But I can’t kid myself too long before that desire nags deep, deep down. I was made to love, to wife, to mother! I can’t deny that forever… but how long must this go on?

I hate writing about this subject, as each time I do, it just sounds like whining and blubbering… but at the same time, I need to get it out. Maybe it’s OK to whine and blubber about it once in a while?!

As I wrap this up, I can hear the neighbor’s baby screaming… maybe I’m not really missing out that much??? :)