Conversations

I just finished a conversation with a good friend.  It was a helpful conversation.  An enlightening conversation.  A conversation where things were clarified and my heart was heard, which helps in the healing process.

The truth of it all is this blog, this little corner of the internet world, is my conversation with myself.  I'm so glad I can share with others because sometimes, I've been told, this blog has been helpful.  Sometimes, I've been told, this blog has been useful for others to process.

But when all is said and done, I write for me.  I write for my sanity.  I write when I have a really, really bad day and I need to remember that my babes are beautifully and wonderfully made, not made to simply irritate and anger me.  I write when I'm wrestling God, even if, like Ester, His name is never mentioned.  I write when I'm thrilled.  I write when I'm proud as a peacock and can't wait to shout about something wonderful that's happened.  But I also write when I'm sad.  I write when I'm hurt.  It's my outlet, my means of taking a step back, gaining perspective, collecting my thoughts.

I don't write about anything and everything indiscriminately.  There are some things that are too personal, at least at the moment.  There are things I hold all to myself, never to be published... about my husband, my kids, my marriage, my ministry.  This path I'm walking right now, this life transition that doesn't exactly make sense has many, many areas, many paths that I simply can't walk down just yet.  Not because they don't need to be dealt with (they do) but because my heart is too open, my wounds too fresh and those topics are just salt being rubbed in.

It's so much easier to mourn the loss of my city, my friendships, my plans than it is to mourn the loss of my heart, my passion, my ministry here.  Because at the end of the day, the city will still be here.  I can return in 20 years and there will still be jacarandas in the spring.  There will still be veld fires in October.  There will still be a sparkling city just waiting to wink her eye at me at night just after an afternoon rain.  My friends may move but even if they don't I will still have Facebook, I'll still have email, I'll have Skype and all the rest.  I can make new plans, talk my kids through school in a different place, walk them through the next stages.

But...  But... But I can't return to my ministries.  The quote attributed to Heraclitus of Ephesus is exactly right:  You could not step twice into the same rivers; for other waters are ever flowing on to you.  I could return to Joburg in a year, in two years, in ten years.  I would still know the streets, still participate in all the activities and heartbeat of this city that has unfolded before me.  I cannot return to the same place of ministry, the same depth of investment.  I've poured five years, five long, hard, difficult years of on-my-knees-praying to get to a place where my ministry, my passion, my Jesus are seen.  I'm not trying to say I do the work, I don't.  God goes before me, behind me and everywhere in between.  I fervently pray that even as we prepare to leave, He has already paved the path for others to come along and take over.

But... But... But I'm still not ready to face the reality that I'm not going to be around to see the fruit of the labour.  It's selfish.  It's totally and completely and inexcusably selfish.  I wish I could say I was ready to meet this challenge head-on.  I'm not.  I wish I would say that I'm in a good place, a place where there has been a natural break, a good closing chapter.  I can't.

I'm not ready.  In many ways I feel as if I'm being cheated out of the best part, that some spoiler alert just popped up when I'm at the best part of the book.  I'm not ready to leave my heart, my calling, the things that made me want to be a missionary nearly 25 years ago.  I waited two decades to be here, to get the chances I've been privileged to have.  I know God has things, big and small things, wherever we go next.  I get that.  But the mourning of my current position, my current heartbeat... well, I'm just not there yet.  I'm sorry if that disappoints, I'm sorry if there are those who want to hear more about that.  Maybe someday.  But today, today is not that day.