Last night I sat across the table from one of my dearest friends J for the first time since returning from Africa. She looked at me eagerly and exclaimed, “So, are you going to tell me about William?”. I didn’t expect it to hit me like it did - but it meant more to me than she can ever know. Today is William day - the 13th of every month is. It’s the day we were gloriously reunited and then said our final goodbye. It’s the day I will hold dear as an answered prayer I wasn’t even really praying - but exceeded every expectation and reminded me that our good and faithful Father has hopes for us that make our hearts soar and are wildly better than the ones we dare to speak. Jenny was stepping INTO that excitement - and holding that hope with me - even months later, she is still running alongside. That kind of friendship is a gift that cannot be overstated.
Jenny has spoken a lot of truth over me through the years. J and I have been friends for a decade - we started laughing through life when I was only 22. We used to meet at Panera and allowed ourselves approximately 30 minutes of chatter before forced focus. We had notecards to create and books to read - so so many pages of books to read. We were intent on all things studying because we were both working on Masters degrees. Life looks a little different now and involves more television and movies and restaurants with food and wine or couches and yoga pants! Cheers. We have laughed many times over how she has seen me at my worst. She literally had to wipe for me once - but that is a story that will never make the blog (no alcohol involved folks). Last night she sat across the table and I watched tears brew in HER eyes (which admittedly I have not seen many times) as she talked about how far I have come in the last few years.
While I was in Rwanda, my teammate and friend Jacob gave me a compliment that was rich and has stayed with me and I chose to share it with J. She has always been one of the safest places in my life. Jacob said something along the lines of - “Shell, it is incredible that I can catch you in pain from across the room and you choose to dab back or make a ridiculous face at me. But later you still let me come hug you.” The truth is, for many years, I didn’t let anyone into that space. I was so afraid of being defined as the headache girl that I hid the reality of how awful I felt from everyone. J was actually one of very few people who knew the truth of many agonizing days and was allowed to see the most painful moments. After I shared Jacob’s words, J confirmed - “Shell, I think he said something that is really true of you in the world now.” I would have never chosen a road riddled with pain every single day - but they are right - I don’t hide it any more. I have allowed people to see me in the midst of it. Laughing through it, standing strong and living fully despite it, giving my all to loving deeper and giving more regardless. It doesn’t define me, but it is undoubtedly part of my story. Perhaps a part I wouldn’t have chosen, but part I am learning more and more to be grateful for as I see how God has used it to mold and shape my heart towards His and how to love more like He does.
At the close of our conversation about Rwanda, a few thoughts just kind of burst out - they are words I had never said before, but I needed to write them down, and I need to remember them. There is no doubt God called me to Rwanda. I knew that from the beginning. I did not know He had a William in store for me. And one of the most beautiful realities about William is that I did absolutely NOTHING to be loved by him. I didn’t say any perfect words - I couldn’t even speak his language. William simply loved me for me. He picked me out of the team of Americans. He held my hand. Rwanda was really hard, but exceptionally and extraordinarily and beautifully hard. It is kind of inexplicable. William taught me that I am lovable in a way I didn’t know before - and that I can love in a way I haven’t ever before. I can do really hard things - despite pain - in the midst of pain - even with people watching my pain - and I can be CHOSEN right there in the center of it just exactly as I am.
Thank you Jesus, how can I ask for more.
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