I had several epiphanies tonight at church. The message was on asking God to expand our faith and the pastor was relaying memories from some of his mission trips. He told wonderful stories and I found myself remembering some similar experiences from past missions I have been on. At the end of the service, he shard a provocative video in which a foreign minister outlined the extent Christian's in countries like China and North Korea will go just to meet together and worship God. The pastor encouraged us to not take our position in this world for granted. That made me think about my current circumstances and I came to some important conclusions, the nature of which surprised even me.
First, I am reminded on a daily basis that my current stage in my career gives me the chance to be part of people's lives at important and momentous times. This is a key opportunity for me to share what God has done for me and what God wants to do for them. I never push this talk on anyone because my training demands that I be culturally sensitive and obey certain rules but God has (and will) provide those perfect moments. This requires that I try to always listen and it doesn't allow for much room to hesitate when He moves. Now, some of you may be saying, "Duh. Don't you say you think about this all the time?" That's true. I do talk about this a lot. Still, it's hard to remember when I'm two patients behind, I have a stack of paperwork and I'm tired.
Second, being a doctor is going to open doors. I'm not sure what eventually being certified in Developmental Behavioral Pediatrics means in all of this but it's going to be fun finding out. Maybe this specialty will give me the chance to enter countries like North Korea. I'm sure they have children who need the kinds of evaluation and treatment I will be specialized to provide. This leads me to something I remembered during worship. The pastor talked about experiences he's had in the past. I found myself thinking about a dream I had many years ago. It went a little something like this.
I was walking through a garden. There was a man in front of me and he was pushing the branches of low lying trees and bushes out of the way. He was dressed in a white pair of pants and a short white coat. His hair was neatly trimmed in the fashion you see in most Asian countries. I could see the sandals on my feet and I was wearing a long skirt that went to my ankles. I was carrying a black bag that contained my stethoscope and other instruments. The man continued to lead the way through the garden and I followed behind him without question. At last we came upon a small clearing. In the shade of a large tree sat a gazebo and inside the gazebo buzzed a small group of children. I had been brought to examine them and I did so while we all laughed and smiled. The man in the white pants and coat then led me back to a home where I was to chat with the rich man whose children I had been sent to see. I sat across from the man while he asked me about my home in America, where I had studied and what I hoped to do in the future. He inquired about the health of his children and I had the opportunity to share a little about my faith and how I had found myself so far from the US. The visit was relatively uneventful and there the dream ended. For the longest time, the most important part of that dream was my chance to serve those children and share my faith with that man. Tonight, I realized something else. I was alone in that dream. I was ministering without a partner.
Which brings me to my third realization. Point blank: I am okay with being single. For many years after my divorce I wondered if God had a plan for a husband and family for me. I'm not saying He doesn't and I'm not saying I would throw away the opportunity if it ever presented itself. What I am saying is that I finally realize the potential behind being single. The things God is going to call me to do in the future will sometimes be dangerous. It will require travel, planning, money and personal sacrifice. As a single person, I can give those things without the added complication of worrying about a spouse or family. I sit here tonight writing instead of bathing a child and putting them to bed. I'll prepare for clinic tomorrow instead of packing lunches for school and work. The things I am going to be called to do will be much easier if I am not asking a spouse and children to sacrifice as well.
Does this mean that my heart is permanently changed? No. I loved being married. There was nothing like being part of that kind of team. I liked being a wife and I know in my heart of hearts that I am built to be lead in a very personal way by a spouse. I would really enjoy hearing a child laugh in my home. There is a place in my soul that still longs to kiss the top of a small child's head. The difference is, I can see the real benefit in my current situation.
God has taken my divorce, easily one of the most terrible things that has ever happened to me, and He's turned it into an opportunity for Him. So, when the pastor tonight reminded us to not take our current position in this world for granted, it made me stop and think about the unique place I am in. There are still days when I don't see it as ideal and there are moments when I long for companionship. Tonight has reminded me that that every situation fulfills a purpose. My ultimate desire is to serve God and, while I do that, He will expand my faith so I can step back and let Him fill in all the details.
Sunday, November 10, 2013
Sunday, November 3, 2013
Famine, Feast and Faith
I went to church today for the first time in a long time. While I was worshipping, I had the following vision and I feel compelled to share it with you.
I was standing on a beach. The ocean stretched out in front me, blue and beautiful. Behind me loomed a tall mountain. I was hungry, more hungry than I have ever been in my life. Something inside told me there was a feast on top of that mountain. It was a feast so grand that I would never be hungry again. I gazed at the mountain and I was afraid. There were fires that lept high into the sky. I could hear wild animals and see their shadows move through the trees. There were poisonous plants dotting the paths. Raging rivers flowing down the mountain. In short, there was no easy way to the top. My decision was easy. I would have to find food somewhere else. I turned back to the beach in search of options.
In a very short while I came upon a picnic. On a red checkered blanket rested fruit so luscious I could feel my mouth begin to water. My stomach growled and I decided this would do just fine. There were pears twice the size of my fist, grapes dripping with juice, soft peaches and apples so red and ripe I could smell their fragrance from a distance. I picked up a pear and took a big bite. The taste was indescribable. As the juice ran down my chin I looked back up the mountain. This had been the right decision. I took another bite but I noticed something strange as I chewed. At first it was gritty. Then it was hard. As I continued to chew the taste simply disappeared. Suddenly, the piece of pear in my mouth seemed more like sand than fruit. I spit it out and, to my surprise, it was sand! I looked at the fruit in my hand only to discover it was a clump of beach. This had to be a mistake somehow so I dropped what I was holding and wiped my hand on my shirt. I reached for a clump of grapes. The first grape was like heaven. Succulent, sweet and moist, I held my head back and swallowed with satisfaction. The next grape was a little less satisfying. The third grape was terrible. The fourth grape was gritty and at last, again, I was eating and holding sand. I thew my handful down in disgust. In the spirit of insanity (expecting a different result) I picked up an apple. The same thing happened. I became very angry. I started pitching apples and pears and peaches into the ocean. I screamed at the sky and exhausted my self in frustration only to realize I was now more hungry than when I started. That's when I turned to face the mountain.
It was tall and mostly dark. The peak was enveloped in clouds. I did not even know for certain if it ever ended. Again, somewhere deep inside, a small voice reminded me "There's a feast at the top". I could smell the smoke from the fires and hear the growls from the animals. My hunger became so great and I knew I could die on this beach if I chose to. My head swam with doubt. The sand under my feet was hot and dry. I decided to start walking.
I passed through the foliage at the base and began to climb. My stomach was so empty, it felt like it was digesting itself. My mouth felt like dry parchment. At one point, I slipped and almost fell off the mountain. I held on by the tips of my fingers, crying out in fear until my toes brushed a ledge. It took hours to get back on my feet. Yes, I was scared, but there were moments of peace, too. The dirt between my toes was soft. The sun disappeared and heat was replaced by a cool, moist breeze. I could see bears and wolves, snakes and mountain lions but they paid me no heed. I came upon a fire and a way through it presented itself. Raging rivers became babbling brooks and trickling streams that washed my feet and cooled me on my journey. I climbed for so many days that they all ran together. A fog developed as I passed through the cloud bank and I could barely see my own hand in front of my face. My exhaustion became tangible. Almost blind in the fog and deaf to anything but the sound of my pounding heart in my ears, I considered quitting. Then it happened.
My leg brushed something hard. My had reached out and I grasped the end of a table. I ran my left hand along the table and used it as guide. The table continued and continued. Its smooth wooden surface was cool and firm. The fog slowly lifted as I walked. The foliage disappeared and the sun came out overhead. I blinked in disbelief and used my right hand to shield my face. Heart pounding, gasping for breath, I lowered my hand. The view in front of me was overwhelming. The table seemed to never end and it had so many chairs around it that I lost count. The food was heaped high in the center and laid out on the plates. And the view - I could see the whole world all around me! I found my chair and sank into the cushion. I reached for my glass and drank deep of the water it held. I ate and was satisfied. No words can describe the tastes, smells, and textures of that feast.
As I chewed, I thought back on the journey. I remembered my foolish decision to try and be satisfied with what was easy, what was convenient. A path had been placed before me with an unspoken promise and I had tried to lean on what was seen only to be disappointed. In the end, none of the shadows or the dangers had mattered. Faith, not fear, had been the key. My provisions were far greater than my needs and all I had to do was believe.
I was standing on a beach. The ocean stretched out in front me, blue and beautiful. Behind me loomed a tall mountain. I was hungry, more hungry than I have ever been in my life. Something inside told me there was a feast on top of that mountain. It was a feast so grand that I would never be hungry again. I gazed at the mountain and I was afraid. There were fires that lept high into the sky. I could hear wild animals and see their shadows move through the trees. There were poisonous plants dotting the paths. Raging rivers flowing down the mountain. In short, there was no easy way to the top. My decision was easy. I would have to find food somewhere else. I turned back to the beach in search of options.
In a very short while I came upon a picnic. On a red checkered blanket rested fruit so luscious I could feel my mouth begin to water. My stomach growled and I decided this would do just fine. There were pears twice the size of my fist, grapes dripping with juice, soft peaches and apples so red and ripe I could smell their fragrance from a distance. I picked up a pear and took a big bite. The taste was indescribable. As the juice ran down my chin I looked back up the mountain. This had been the right decision. I took another bite but I noticed something strange as I chewed. At first it was gritty. Then it was hard. As I continued to chew the taste simply disappeared. Suddenly, the piece of pear in my mouth seemed more like sand than fruit. I spit it out and, to my surprise, it was sand! I looked at the fruit in my hand only to discover it was a clump of beach. This had to be a mistake somehow so I dropped what I was holding and wiped my hand on my shirt. I reached for a clump of grapes. The first grape was like heaven. Succulent, sweet and moist, I held my head back and swallowed with satisfaction. The next grape was a little less satisfying. The third grape was terrible. The fourth grape was gritty and at last, again, I was eating and holding sand. I thew my handful down in disgust. In the spirit of insanity (expecting a different result) I picked up an apple. The same thing happened. I became very angry. I started pitching apples and pears and peaches into the ocean. I screamed at the sky and exhausted my self in frustration only to realize I was now more hungry than when I started. That's when I turned to face the mountain.
It was tall and mostly dark. The peak was enveloped in clouds. I did not even know for certain if it ever ended. Again, somewhere deep inside, a small voice reminded me "There's a feast at the top". I could smell the smoke from the fires and hear the growls from the animals. My hunger became so great and I knew I could die on this beach if I chose to. My head swam with doubt. The sand under my feet was hot and dry. I decided to start walking.
I passed through the foliage at the base and began to climb. My stomach was so empty, it felt like it was digesting itself. My mouth felt like dry parchment. At one point, I slipped and almost fell off the mountain. I held on by the tips of my fingers, crying out in fear until my toes brushed a ledge. It took hours to get back on my feet. Yes, I was scared, but there were moments of peace, too. The dirt between my toes was soft. The sun disappeared and heat was replaced by a cool, moist breeze. I could see bears and wolves, snakes and mountain lions but they paid me no heed. I came upon a fire and a way through it presented itself. Raging rivers became babbling brooks and trickling streams that washed my feet and cooled me on my journey. I climbed for so many days that they all ran together. A fog developed as I passed through the cloud bank and I could barely see my own hand in front of my face. My exhaustion became tangible. Almost blind in the fog and deaf to anything but the sound of my pounding heart in my ears, I considered quitting. Then it happened.
My leg brushed something hard. My had reached out and I grasped the end of a table. I ran my left hand along the table and used it as guide. The table continued and continued. Its smooth wooden surface was cool and firm. The fog slowly lifted as I walked. The foliage disappeared and the sun came out overhead. I blinked in disbelief and used my right hand to shield my face. Heart pounding, gasping for breath, I lowered my hand. The view in front of me was overwhelming. The table seemed to never end and it had so many chairs around it that I lost count. The food was heaped high in the center and laid out on the plates. And the view - I could see the whole world all around me! I found my chair and sank into the cushion. I reached for my glass and drank deep of the water it held. I ate and was satisfied. No words can describe the tastes, smells, and textures of that feast.
As I chewed, I thought back on the journey. I remembered my foolish decision to try and be satisfied with what was easy, what was convenient. A path had been placed before me with an unspoken promise and I had tried to lean on what was seen only to be disappointed. In the end, none of the shadows or the dangers had mattered. Faith, not fear, had been the key. My provisions were far greater than my needs and all I had to do was believe.
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