Where Hearts Shatter

by - 3:16 PM

I feel like I am at an impasse.

I am not who I used to be.

Has Afghanistan changed me, or have I changed Afghanistan?

Or is it the indecipherable combination of both?

I can’t go back to ‘before’, I can’t change myself to become what I was before.

I am evolving. I feel like this evolving me is not known. That is what hurts.

What should I do, Lord?

I can’t go to the next phase being weary.

Ah, now I understand – with tears – the girls and young women here (in Afghanistan). People want them to smile, but they are hurting. Suppressed. Silenced. They are unhappy that they are not who they are, who they would like to be. They try, but it doesn’t come naturally, with the flow of happiness and freedom. It is not anyone’s fault. It is simply the painful reality.

You see, for me, I can go. I can transition out of this zone. That at least offers some sort of consolation. I would be able to get back to the surface, to breath, because I am not from here. I know this suppressed, unsmiling version of me is not me; it is not the way I really am. That is because I have something to compare to, I have my ‘before’ to compare to. But for many here, they can’t know that, they don’t know that possibility. They can’t escape.

My students know the days that I’ve been sad. It makes me cry to think they can see it. I haven’t been as upbeat or positive like I used to be. In my worst moments God uses my sadness to show me the sadness and heartache of others. There is a usefulness to my sadness.

This is indeed a place where hearts shatter.

I have to believe that Your grace is sufficient for me, where there is nothing left.

A floating piece of debris in the middle of the ocean after a shattering storm.

I shall cling to it. My God. Rescue me. 

I am misunderstood.

I am not known.

I am forgotten.

That is okay.

Because I am not alone.

To the end of the road, Christ is with me.

Even when I don’t see him, hear him, or feel him.

Even when I fail to believe.

Even when I can’t see through the blur of tears and I can’t see myself as I am, as I can be.

He carries me through my fog, my unbelief.

My pain, my stubbornness, my shame.

Facades can melt away.

Only my God sees me as I am; frail, weak, worn.

Meet me at my impasse.

Show me Your glory.

Your light alone can revive and remake me.

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