wish to see your face

I would be lying to say that my weary body wasn't crying for lack of sleep and my heart for the absence of home today. I enjoyed a beautiful first day in Europe with the family of my dad's wife just outside of Frankfurt, Germany. Brilliant sun stole the shock and sting of Germany's cold winter air. I learned vocabulary from small children and was comforted to play quiet notes on a keyboard in the living room. But my thoughts and heart were torn.

I struggle tonight to know with how much finality to shelve my longings for the person and people and things of home, and conversely with how much loving acceptance to acknowledge my heartache and allow it to linger. There is risk either way, but my conclusion during this jet-lagged, wide-awake hour of 1 a.m. is that the greater danger lies in silencing the sighs of my soul, one of God's main method of communication with me. I dare not deny the presence of my deep longings and instead must enter fully into the missing and the pain, that I might discover what God has to teach me there.

You are each one dear and precious to me. It remains to be seen whether my irrational, culture-shocked frustration at there not being English writing on my package of cheese, for example, will linger and lead me home, or if by acknowledgment of my feelings, understanding and okay-ness will grow and God will give me peace.

It goes without saying that this has nothing at all to do with cheese.


(disclaimer: for new readers of my blog, please realize that in my writing I tend to emphasize small details of my daily life that sometimes make my experience and interpretation of events seem melodramatic or tragic, when really I am doing just fine. this is art...please don't worry.=)