a scribble of jo

These last few weeks have been filled with moments of hardship. Things that should have been simple have hurt me, and I’ve fallen asleep some nights with an aching for another home. I have felt the weight of this calling–the calling to serve, the calling to sacrifice, the calling to keep on pouring out even when there seems to be so little pouring in–so much more acutely since returning to do this second year, more so than I ever felt last year. I came back to Ecuador this past August with the desire to do well in everything I could, and it has hurt me to see that desire wasn’t enough. Desire doesn’t mean it just happens. There is still the work. There are the days where desire doesn’t seem worth it. It’s more of a tease than a hope. It’s more of a weight than a joy.

But then there is a morning like today when I feel the weight break, and desire liberates me to keep my eyes on the promises that God still has to fulfill. And as the hot water of the shower ran over my face, the thanks poured out and joy poured in.

Thank you, God, for rest.

Thank you, God, for the good work to make the rest so worthwhile.

Thank you, God, for soft bread and sweet butter to have for breakfast.

Thank you, God, for providing exactly what I need and nothing more, that I would keep returning to you as my provider.

Thank you, God, for every reminder there is that this world is not my home. May the ultimate aching never ease, until we are standing on your threshold, seeing the final promise fulfilled.

Thanks be to God.