I went to Myanmar, Because

I promised to tell you why I went to Myanmar, after I was done telling you the what and the who. And I have sat here, in front of my computer, for many days, trying to figure out how exactly to say what it is I want to say. And still, I am not sure.

I can tell you that I didn't go to Myanmar because I had a great driving pulse for orphans in far away places. It came down to: I was talking to Lynn one day, and was sharing with her the deep places I was struggling in, and she said: You should come to Myanmar with us. 

And 3 hours later, I said: I'm in.

My struggling is not meant to be the point here, but to tell a fair and honest story, here's what it was:

The holidays were coming up. And the holidays make me cry, because it is the holidays that reveal to me more clearly than other times of the year how all-alone-in-all-the-world I feel. And I know what you may say, because I've heard it many many times. "You are so loved!" you would cry; "you are so lovely, so lovable, you have so many friends!"  And I would hear you.

But then, I would ask you to hear me: My life is very full, of many wonderful people, and work that I find meaningful. I know it.
And I am grateful. There is an end to every day, however, where I come home to silence. And when you consider what it means to live life as a single person--no matter how full that life is--at the end of the day, there is no one I am pouring love deeply into, and no one pouring deeply into me. And sometimes that reality makes me feel like I am stripped down to my core, hurting and raw. And I cry, just at the thought.

And once it starts, I find it hard to stop.

So when I was offered a trip around the world, I realized: 

I need to get my eyes off of myself, put my hand in the Lord's, and say: 

"I trust you. Let's go." Because, truthfully? I was just sick of myself.

So I took precious money out of precious [little] savings. I told my loved ones I would not be with them for Christmas. And I went to Myanmar.

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But if you want to know the truth...there's more to it than this.

To tell a fair and honest story, it wasn't just the holidays that opened up a deep and gaping wound.

It was the holidays piled on top of a season [that feels long and long and weary] where God has called me smack into the middle of His own heartbreak. A season where I have entered such deep sadness that I have wept beyond myself. 

In this season, I have understood more fully what it meant when Jesus held Himself to a bloody cross, hurting and raw. In this season, I have understood more fully what it meant when I said I belong to Him, when in the painfulness of the process, my heart has become more and more like His. 

A season where I have learned: 

To pour out love is to die to yourself, to every need desire and whim. 

To pour out love is to go beyond yourself, every thing you think you are capable of, and expect nothing in return.

And in the end, to pour out love is to allow your heart to break.

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I could leave you there. I could say that this is the end of the story. 

My heart is broken, and my grief consumes me, and there you have it, 

world without end. But I won't, because there is a then:

Then I went to Myanmar.

And in the then, I found redemption.

Because in Myanmar, I 

--a childless mother-- 

found motherless children. 

I laughed with them and played with them and delighted in them.

I poured my love into them and over them. It all felt very easy.

And then, something quite strange happened: 

I saw places in myself that were still child 

come to the surface and float away. 

I watched myself heal of wounds I didn't know were still there. 

I poured out love, and was poured into.

And something deep inside of me changed.

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But if you want to know the truth...there's more to it than this.

Because I came home. And my heart is still broken, and I am still so sad. But there is still a then, and it is still redemption.

And it is as simple as this: I belong to a God whose love is so deep that He would break my heart in order to heal it. A God who pours out His own love in pain and in sorrow, and in doing so identifies with mine. 

A God who offers His hand and says, "Let's go."

Who says: Walk in my love, because my love will never fail, and in the pouring of it all around, know me.  More.

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If you want to know the truth...there's more to it than this. 

There always always is. And I have sat here, in front of my computer, for many days, trying to figure out how exactly to say what it is I want to say. And still, I am not sure.

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Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:

Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed,

for his compassions never fail.

It is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.

[Lamentations 3:21-22;26]