I had spent countless hours talking, walking, eating,
and praying with her. I knew how the story should end, how I wanted it to end,
how she had come to me saying she wanted it to end. When it didn't happen that
way, it felt like the end. I was leaving, and Carmen was still on the streets.
But as my departure neared, God began to heal the pain
of disappointment in my heart, and assure me that love is always worth it, even
when we can’t see the outcome. He also reminded me that just because it was the
end of my year in the Dominican Republic, did not mean it was the end of His
work in Carmen.
“He is the source, not Abigail” I would tell Carmen
from time to time. Now, God was showing that to me.
On December 17th, I brough Carmen
and Andre breakfast one more time, in their tiny, lowered-roof, one-bedroom apartment without a bathroom or kitchen. I prayed one last time and hugged them goodbye.
“For 70 pesos,” I told her, “You know you can hop on a
bus and get to the safe house, and you will be welcomed with open arms, right?”
“Right.”
“You know it’s before the only light in town, on the
left side, right?”
“Right.”
“OK. Well, I don’t know if I’m coming back. But, I
love you no matter what, and God loves you no matter what. I will always be
praying for you.”
As I walked back to my apartment, my bags all packed
for my departure for the United States, my heart was full of joy, just to have
known them, in spite of all the tears I had shed. I hoped against hope, and
felt deep inside, that Carmen and Ale would yet see the light, and escape the
shadows.
I also felt sure that it wasn't my story, it was God’s
story. I didn't control any of the twists and turns, I just got the chance to
watch God be her Hero again and again, saving the day and wooing her to Him in spite of all her
wanderings. Just like He does with me.
An hour before my flight, outside of a duty-free shop
in the Santo Domingo airport’s corridors, I said goodbye to the vice president
of the ministry I worked for. Alexandra was a lovely, humble woman and a strong
leader. We had shared some good conversations, but she was never my closest
friend. Yet, for some reason, something inside of me broke. My throat started
to close and my eyes started to water. It was my last goodbye, to a place full
of people I had learned to love, on my knees and on my feet, through smiles and
pain, questions and tears.
I swallowed my tears because I couldn't explain what I felt. Alex just hugged me briefly, looked at me and said,
I swallowed my tears because I couldn't explain what I felt. Alex just hugged me briefly, looked at me and said,
“You’ll come back.”
Then, we parted ways.
I didn't tell anyone. I wanted to go back but I didn't want it to be my idea. I wanted it to be God’s idea, a quiet knowing birthed, not organized, into me—through the Holy Spirit.
I remember when I left Spain, how I cried so
hard on the bus and the plane, that I had to ask the flight attendant for some
Tylenol to treat my self-induced headache. I felt I had to come back. But my
friend Loida, who got up before dawn to say farewell, had told me that I wasn't coming back, not to Spain--that God had work for me elsewhere, and He would give me strength. When I had tried to go back to teach English in Spain, I couldn't get a visa--and then I got accepted to go to the Dominican Republic instead.
I had tried not to hold on too tightly to anything
after that, except to God. Yet, somehow, the Dominican people had knocked down
my walls, and found their way into my heart.
Although happy to be home, I also felt spiritually exhausted,
and couldn't see clearly which way I should go. To avoid doing nothing, I
started applying for jobs at home.
I felt uncertain of everything, except of God. I knew that every step of my life was ordered
by God. If He wanted me back, and those weren't just Alexandra’s words, He
would show me the way, and open the doors. If not, He would find another way to
teach me to love and receive love, and another way go after Carmen and Andre’s
hearts…
Para su gloria!
No comments:
Post a Comment