forward and away.

Last night I went to a dinner with people who were once my people but are clearly not my people anymore. I was proud of myself for not being anxious as I drove toward the event. I had prepared my heart and let go of expectations. I wasn’t looking for their acceptance or approval, I understood fully my worth isn’t measured by their response. I was hopeful and perhaps even eager.  

It was a LOVELY dinner. We laughed together, celebrating our shared experience. The food was delicious (though we did miss, at least for a second, the African buffet). We talked about how it felt like our Thanksgiving and there was certainly much to be grateful for. Outside of all we had actually shared in Rwanda - all we saw, tasted, and took in together - I have learned and grown because of our adventure. I have sat at the feet of Jesus and searched my heart perhaps like never before. I still don’t fully know or understand what God is saying - I am still trying to find my feet - but I am confident in my calling and sure of my heartbeat for the nations and for Rwanda specifically. I have no doubt I was supposed to be there and that He knew in advance that team would be there together. None of it was a mistake and all of it will have great reward - even amidst the costs. I am also sure this team is no longer my place. There are certain people who own places in my heart. They are dear and loved and there are miracle stories of all God did to bring us to Rwanda together, to unite our lives and to carry us close while we traveled far. Nevertheless as I drove home and the tears began to fall, the hallow was deep and aching, and it was abundantly clear my path forward was away from this group I once called my own. 

I wish I could say I didn’t care - that it didn’t hurt and I wasn’t disappointed - but I am. As I told Amanda about the evening I cried admitting that there is now one more place in the world I don’t belong. This season makes me ache. I have to ask people to make space for me - I have to ask to be seen and remembered. I have been building new relationships, investing in them, and giving much of myself to others for so many years in this (seemingly endless) season of singleness. I am grateful, and I am exhausted, and on days like today I feel like I am running out of steam. I trust that God is kind and has a plan - I hope that something good is coming - and I also just want to get under the covers for a little while and turn out the lights.