One Small Cloud

I almost didn't write this. 

I really do try to keep my blog from becoming like a journal entry. People have diaries to write about their personal problems, and nobody wants to read that on a blog. 

But you also know me well enough to know that I don't mind being vulnerable. Honest. Open. I believe there is value in that, and so that is why I am writing this. I also believe that someone out there might be reading this and feeling the exact same way that I am. I want you to know that you aren't alone, and I kind of need to know that I am not alone either. 

It's been a hard day in Africa. 

I knew there would be hard days when I got here, but that was just a vague, foggy idea of what "hard" is. Now I know what it actually feels like. It feels like a concrete block in your stomach and a dull ache in your heart for the people that you miss most. It feels like a scratchy throat, unrelenting congestion, and watery eyes because of the dust that I live in. It feels like a hundred degrees outside and no way to escape it. It feels like not wanting to go to french class because you already feel like a failure. It feels like not having anyone to talk to when you really want to share what's on your heart. It feels like just wanting a hug and no one is there to give it to you. It feels like seeing poverty in absolutely every direction around you, no matter where you look. It feels like wanting to help but not having the resources to do it. It feels like a heavy, weary heart. 

Yes, it's been a hard day in Africa. And usually I wait for it to get better before I write about it. Buts it's not better yet, and I am still writing. 

I was literally just interrupted in the middle of writing the above paragraph by my host mother, Charlotte, who just got back from a funeral. What I didn't know, she just informed me. The funeral was for a cousin who died this morning giving birth to her child. Another death related to labor and delivery. Another orphaned baby. And just when I thought I was done crying, my heart broke all over again. 

I still have tears in my eyes as i write this, and I am currently listening to "Sing Along" by Christy Nockels on repeat. Listen to it; it's perfect. 

I went to a Bible study this afternoon where we are doing Beth Moore's study on the book of James. Today's lesson was absolutely perfect, and so as I sit here and review my notes, I also share them with you. 

We were looking at James 5 today, and the theme of the lesson came from verse 7: "See how the farmer waits for the precious fruit of the earth, being patient about it, until it receives the early and late rains." We titled the session, "between the rains" because there are times in life when we really feel the presence and pleasure of God, and then there are times between the rains when we feel like we are in a drought. Like the farmer, we must wait patiently, trusting that the harvest is coming.

Oh, how I can relate. 

The main verse that stood out to me from chapter 5 was verse 11. 

"Behold, we consider those blessed who remain steadfast." 

There's that word again. Steadfast. The word that God is teaching me. Be steady, unwavering, unshifting, unfaltering in trusting the Lord at all times, no matter the cicrumstance. No bouncing back and forth between doubt and faith. Just solid belief and trust that is so firmly planted that no stormy wind or hard hit could even budge it. 

Beth Moore said it this way, "As sure as the sun rises in the morning, your rain is coming." She illustrated her point with the story of Elijah in 1 Kings 18:41-46. It had been a long season of drought. Like three and a half years. But Elijah prayed for rain, and he kept asking his servant to go out and look at the sky. It wasn't until the seventh time that the servant noticed one little cloud in the distance, the size of a man's fist. One little cloud, and Elijah knew his rain was coming. 

Inspired by an example in the video lesson we watched today, I traced my fist and posted this picture in my room just now. 

Today has been a hard day in Africa, but my faith is solid and unshaken even when my heart is breaking. I am looking for my one small cloud, and I will keep checking - even more than seven times - until my Jesus proves himself faithful like I know he will. 

I share with you what I just wrote in my journal...

Jesus, this is hard, and I didn't really know it would be his hard, but I love you this much. If this is what you are choosing to give me, then I accept it. Even if this is what you are choosing to give me, then I really do accept it. Because I love you, and I trust you, and I am looking for my one small cloud. I believe my rain is coming.

I almost did not write this, and even now I wonder if I should post. Is it too personal? Is it too much like a diary? Maybe I should wait until I have it all figured out and can write some great inspiring post about how I have everything put together now. But the truth is, I don't and I won't. And just like you may be in the middle of hurting while you are reading this, I am in the middle of hurting while I am writing it. And together, we can fix our eyes on Jesus Christ and on his Word when he promises that those who persevere and remain steadfast will be blessed. And we will fix our eyes to the sky and wait patiently, expectantly for that one small cloud.