I woke up this morning at 4. Jet lag, you remembered to come visiting for the holiday season. Thanks. :)
But, the positive side of waking up at 4 in the morning is that the world is quiet and still, and that is a side of the world I haven't seen much lately. I crept down to the living room and plugged in my mom's big, shiny Christmas tree. I sat in the recliner and thought about where I was one year ago and where I am now, and how I wasn't expecting a lot of what happened last year, and how I'm not sure where I'll be going from here. I opened up the accordian blinds that cover the huge windows in our living room. I have heard those windows are bad for heating bills. But for all the lack of cost-effectiveness, they are wonderful for looking outside. I waited for the sun to rise. Rise it did, arriving in layers of yellow and pink and purple. I am home, I thought. I am home where the trees are now in their elegant season, all icy and tall. I am home where three of the people I love the most in this world are sleeping nearby. I am home where I grew up from the ground, a fertile, tender ground that sometimes makes it hard to remember I am a pilgrim here.
I feel very broken right now. Kolkata feels like a dream, but this brokenness in my heart is evidence that yes, it did happen. In my prayers this morning, the Lord answered and led me to this:
Come, let us return to the Lord,
He has torn us to pieces,
but He will heal us;
He has injured us
but He will bind up our wounds...
let us acknowledge the Lord;
let us press on to acknowledge Him.
As surely as the sun rises,
He will appear.
As surely as the sun rises. I cried when I read that. God knows us intimately. As I watched the sun rise this morning, He already knew the heaviness of my heart. It did not surprise Him. It does not bewilder Him that I am back in Bolivar, although it is a bit bewildering to me.
To feel like a pile of pieces, torn apart and scattered, is the preface for His putting-together.
I will keep waiting. The sun does not rise in one quick moment.