A Holiday from Real

As I travel through time constantly nearing a far way memory of my stay in Ethiopia, I struggle with preserving the confidence and knowledge I inherited so fully. How is it that one day I can be on my knees in awe of the suffering I witnessed and the next I don’t let the pain of my sightings dare cross my mind? I am sure of what I felt, saw, and learned yet today, I find it hard to grasp the sensitivity I once treasured in relation to it all. I saw a huge God in Ethiopia; in America I see a nation with no God. I was swept away in busyness the minute I stepped onto the red and blue soil. I am grasping at the idea of being swept away in stillness. I felt still, aware even in the midst of a chaotic city bursting with liveliness. When I take the time to breathe, take the time to say a quick hello to God, it is then I feel the brokenness I treasure. When I am not chasing after success and a future, I am still enough to remember the spiritual vitality I gained from being removed from self-sufficiency.
I long for the soulful nakedness of people. My friends in a faraway land bared all the blessings and suffering God so graciously gave them. They wanted to know your heart; their friendship was deep and unfathomably selfless. So, since America is my home and where I am currently positioned on this earth, how do I make my stay here the heartfelt adventure I once tasted in beautiful Ethiopia? How do I make the people around me real? How do I make those closest to me understand that complete human suffering is the greatest heartache and greatest joy I may ever care to dive into. That’s exactly it- I’m standing on the diving board trembling with anticipation of jumping into the passionate pursuit of my God-given purpose. The thing is I feel like the pool is empty; I’m looking over the edge and I see concrete; I see walls. I wish I saw the lush Ethiopian mountains and perfectly needy children, but I don’t. I see hearts of stone; I see walls of concrete.