staying put

Linking up with Velvet Ashes: The Grove on the theme of "participate."
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I'm coming up on four years. Four years calling this place "home." I've been through the culture shock, then also the culture pain and culture stripping. I've come to learn, not only mentally, but experientially that the straight and narrow, well... isn't. I've not only written my name in this land, but I've also buried my heart here... literally, encapsulated in the body of my firstborn.

Last year, I was struggling, feeling like nothing I have done has really come to fruition. Partnerships I had built and handed off either went dormant or turned sour. All the effort I had poured into new teammates and staff seemed to have come to naught as, one by one, they returned to their home countries. National teams I poured into -- some broke apart, individuals fell into sin, and yet others plodded along with the patience of Job. From man's point of view... all my efforts hadn't amounted to anything of lasting value. Still, I stayed. Put down roots. By the grace of God, I am still here -- the place where He has chosen for me to be, to dwell.

And I'm beginning to see, He was still working -- not through my strivings and my efforts, but simply through my being here, my living and my staying put.

I live in local housing -- condominiums. When I talk to local people, whenever our dwelling comes up, they are surprised. "We don't know other white people who live in our condominiums," they say. I have neighbors, on both sides. Below me. I can walk nowhere without passing beautiful people who have become my community, with the obligatory greetings and well wishes that now freely flow off my tongue. Though my language learning still leaves MUCH to be desired, I can at least greet with the best of them.

A motherly neighbor, with whom I've slowly been building a sweet connection... she now comes and shares her prayer requests. We practice different religions... and it was so subtle I almost missed it. First, she was ill... I told her I would pray. Each day I greeted her in my comings and goings and asked how she was.. "I'm better now!" She said, "Thank you for praying for me!" Then she had horrible headaches from a eye problem that needed to be resolved. This time she asked me to pray, I said yes.

(When we lost our newborn daughter, this woman came daily to my home--bringing food, sharing her daily bread, serving those who came to sit with us, washing our dishes.) Soon, she went for a single eye surgery and now it is healed. She came especially and banged on my front door, gleely lifting up her glasses and saying, "See! Now I can see you!" I took her a lunchtime meal one day, a local meal which I cooked, "You are becoming one of us," she exclaims. A couple days later, she brings me a new dish I was unfamiliar with, "There is more for you to learn," she says.

Just this week, I was walking to my home (which requires me always to pass her), she grabs my hand, kisses my cheek and tells me her son has lost his job. I nod. I point to the heavens. She nods and smiles, "Thank you," she says. She doesn't ask me to pray. She already knows I will.

Other friendships which has taken these years to forge, are finally opening windows, if not doors. A former landlord has become a dear sister. A sister has become a friend. A friend has turned into the Lord's vessel to share His love better than I can, in a heart language I'm still learning, extending His heart towards my own relatives.

The local juice stand owner knows our order, and never forgets my straw. Tears fill his eyes when he asks where our baby is, and we tell him straight...he whispers, "I'm so sorry" and slips a few extra pieces of fruit into my bag. In fact our whole neighborhood was anticipating the birth of our firstborn, and they took the tragedy personally. Some passed on the news to other shopkeepers, so we wouldn't have to be the ones to break it. I know they already know, because they hold onto my hand longer than the handshake requires, and they whisper to me: "Be strong."

I see my taxi driver friend probably more frequently even than our local family... he has now appointed himself as my cultural advisor. I can ask him (almost) anything. He talks about life. We practice different religions. We send him sms well wishes on his holidays, and he sends us the same for ours. I find a sneaky way to ask him why he suddenly feels comfortable opening up (teasing him about how chatty he has become), "You have stayed," he says. "Everyone else leaves, but you are still here. You even had your child here. You have become one of us." He has learned sign language, picking up bits and pieces, and chats with my Love. I am now superfluous to their conversation. My heart smiles.

All the while I was looking towards the quantifiable. The number of partnerships. The number of people. The amount of progress. And all the while, the Lord was looking, rather, at hearts and relationships -- opening, shaping, forging, deepening. In the most unlikely ways and places... only now am I beginning to see what HE was doing all along. Not through my works, but through my participation... in normal, everyday life. Just being present. Staying put. Now that I finally know where to direct my gaze, I am excited. Anticipating. Rejoicing. I know this is only the beginning...and I have so much still to learn.