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04 August 2013

epic fail.

 As we were driving away from Cincinnati late last night, enjoying a last spontaneous evening with our dear Aubrys, I realized that every time we head back South, I feel like an Epic Fail.

Don’t get me wrong, we had a fantastic time with them.  And a fantastic time with literally THOUSANDS of people this summer.  We have done a hundred things, been a hundred places.

Almost everything we were asked or invited to do, we did.  Almost every place we were  asked or invited to go, we went.  Almost every person we were asked or invited to see, we saw.
We did late nights.  We did long car rides.  We did no naps for two toddlers, we slept on couches and air mattresses and three or four in a bed.  We did five services.  We did time apart.  

We gave it our ALL with great joy and thankful hearts.  I don’t know how we could have done or seen or been ONE MORE.
But yesterday, my sister moved into an apartment-turned-nightmare, and she needs a fleet of cleaning fairies to join her today on their hands and knees.  Once again, she has a need, and once again, it’s something I COULD DO, and once again.  I. Am. Not. There.
And on our way to Cincy, I called my dear friend for one last talk.  And she had a heavy heart, a new outlook, a transition of heart, a long week.  I didn’t WANT to be on the phone with her.  I wanted to be bringing her an flour-less, sugar-less, dairy-free apple pie and look into her eyes and LISTEN.  Pray with her.  I could DO that (well, with a little help from allrecipies.com).  I WANT to do that.  And once again, I. Am. Not. Coming.
And talking as fast as we could, catching up and charging on with Sarah last night was precious.  I could sit by her and watch our children dance together for the rest of my life.  And she just moved her little ones from Illinois to Haiti to Kentucky, and they’re starting over and know NOone and sure could use a friend to take the kids out while she job searches or keep her youngest when she GETS that job or just to share her heart with. 

And for six months, I got to DO that…wipe the tears and share the sugar and stay up too late talking and watch our kids dance.  And I am NOT doing that any more, and I still WANT to be.

And after four great days with Bex, facing a huge transition and needing some new-reality friends, I want to BE that.  I want to be the common denominator to her drastically different days, the biggest fan who gets to be a part of not just her old dreams, but her NEW ones.
The more I think of it, the more spontaneous friend ministry and life-on-life I want to be a part of, and am not.  I’m just stopping in.  America never felt like a big mission-field to me, when I was from America. 
But now that we’re from Haiti, I SEE it.  It is.  A huge mission-field.  With many many needs for the SAME THING Haiti needs.  That the WORLD needs.
My epic-fail reality, again, is that I am NOT (no matter where we lived) able to be everything that everyone needs…and I wish I could.  It breaks my heart.  When we’re here, I wish we could be there for our friends in Haiti.  When we’re there, I wish I could be there for our friends here.  Even when we’re HERE I wish we could be there for our friends here. 

I want to be Jesus to everyone, everywhere, at the same time :)
Sigh.

I guess I am not God.
Once again, I’m giving my sisters, my family, our friends, our churches, and our COUNTRY back to a living God, the One and Only Who IS able to be everything that everyone needs in every place.  Completely.

I’ve never been what anybody ever needed, in any place.  I remember that, now. 

It's not about ME being everything the world, and my dear ones, need.
It's about trusting HIM...that HE. IS.

Only Him.

He’s still all I’ve got worth giving, and man, I am just going to keep giving all of Him I can and working towards that being less and less of me.


As long as you think that you are of value to Him
He cannot choose you,
because you have purposes of your own to serve.
But if you will allow Him
to take you to the end of your own self-sufficiency, 
then He can choose you to go with Him.

It is not a matter of our equipment, but a matter of our poverty.

o.chambers

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