I am unable to sleep because in a few hours I will be bringing Lisvi and her family the rest of the way to their home. Lisvi is a six year old girl that I have fallen in love with. Not because of any outward beauty. At fourteen pounds Lisvi looks more like a shriveled up old lady than a little girl. Lisvi who is unable to talk and scarcely has the strength to change expressions has stolen my heart because she is one of God's children. Her parents recognize that as well and could not love her more if she were the most beautiful princess in the world. I have struggled for several days now trying to convince them that it would be best for Lisvi if they admitted her into the malnutrition ward of Hermano Pedro. The room that is located just upstairs from where Chochi stayed. Two days after convincing Lisvi's parents to let me take them to Antigua they decided that they could not bear to be separated from her and asked me to take her back home with them. I must admit I was a bit bitter at first but during our five hour car ride home yesterday I watched both father and mother as they took turns holding their precious daughter. The love that they had for her was unquestionable. I began to realize that she needed them far more than any silly hospital. Reading your journal today helped to confirm that. Perhaps much like Chochi, Lisvi needs to be home with a Father that can hold her tightly.
I have to admit I only quickly skimmed through his response. Again, the thought, "Lord, I want to serve you, but it hurts too much," was at the front of my mind, as I quickly skipped to the next email. If I just don't let myself think about it, it won't hurt so much. If I just distract myself, it won't hurt so much. If I just try to forget, then it can't hurt, can it?
The next email was from Roland Elf, sending pictures of our trip. All the tears I'd held back, came quickly to the surface. Luckily, I'm sitting at my brother's computer rather than in an internet cafe this time. And as I sat crying, I seriously wondered if I could forget about those I love in Guatemala, forget I'd ever met Lisvi, Silsa, Francesca, and many more. Forget Lionel, Ervin, Elmer, Byron, Moi, Sonja, Veronica and the rest of the kids I've gotten to love more with each visit. "God, I want to forget because it hurts too much. You've got the wrong person. I can't do this. I'm just not enough. Not strong enough, not compassionate enough, not faithful enough."
Then I opened the devotional I receive daily:
This is the last thing the Enemy wants you to know. His plan from the beginning was to assault the heart, just as the Wicked Witch did to the Tin Woodman. Make them so busy, they ignore the heart. Wound them so deeply, they don’t want a heart. Twist their theology, so they despise the heart. Take away their courage. Destroy their creativity. Make intimacy with God impossiblefor them. Of course your heart would be the object of a great and fierce battle. It is your most precious possession. Without your heart you cannot have God. Without your heart you cannot have love. Without your heart you cannot have faith. Without your heart you cannot find the work you were meant to do. In other words, without your heart you cannot have life.
from: Daily Readings, Randsomed Heart Devotionals (2/6/2009)
So, I'm sitting here crying as I write, finally feeling all I couldn't let myself feel while it was happening.
As people begin asking me how my trip was, I really don't know what to say. "Great! I met and fell in love with a 6 year old who is probably gonna die. I fell in love with a three month old, who wasn't starving enough to go to the hospital, yet." My heart feels so bitter right now. It's not so much that I don't feel, but so often I don't want to feel. "Lord, I want to serve you, but it hurts too much." The theme of my life, I guess. . .
Finally I realize that my attempts to protect my heart are playing right into my enemy's hands. Have I not read, over and over in Scripture that Jesus "looked on them with compassion," not the professional detachment I have been taught to have? Yet, over and over again, I try to protect my heart from hurting, and wonder why I feel empty.
But I think maybe I'm getting it right this time. In my heart I rage not at the God who loves us, but at the enemy who desires our destruction. As I prayed on the plane coming home yesterday, God showed me that Lisvi did not need to meet me. I needed to meet Lisvi. I needed to willingly let my heart be touched, and wounded, and trust that He will give me everything I need to heal. I needed to learn again to risk letting my heart be touched, knowing it might be broken, but trusting it will heal.
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