winter and christmas mean white on the other side of the ocean, but here it's red.
because it came back with a great, red fury and the whole world felt it.
it shoved its way down throats and in noses, weaseled between the screen and infiltrated the private sectors of our lungs.
the sky chokes, our lungs cough and the sun feels far away.
the wind blows on us, down from the sahara, with the delicious cool and the gritty sand.
eyes squinch, skin cracks and peels, begging for the moisture that august took with it when he left.
it burns to breathe and great poofs of dust hit my face when i take the clothes off the line, now only clean in word.

and peace,
a peace that passes beyond all earthly understanding.  
because it isn’t, it is not of this world, and you can see it miles away like a lighthouse shining forth for all to see for those who seek it.
it's the joy that we are called to have as those who are found in Christ, and yet we don't.
how is it that it's easier seen on the face of one who has no Everlasting Hope, that the one who has the promise of eternal life?

and people ask what i love about this place.
what is my favorite part.

and my mind goes blank, because frankly there is not much to like about it.
my flesh doesn't like the heat + the bugs + the buggy water + the hurt + pain that stares at me at every turn.

what do i like about burkina?
nothing, i don't like anything about it.

but i do love it.
i love burkina.
i love this place and the people that live in it.

i've tried, i really have.
i've wracked my brain every. single. time. after someone has asked that impending but terrible question
and i always come up with a blank state,
nervous smile
+ most times, end up with a random food item.


so i don't like this place.
i love it + the people that live in it.
i love the food that they eat + the languages that they speak.
the clothes that they wear + the places they live.

i love the little boy in the dirt + his mama that works.
the people that surround this life + invade the cracks.
even when they take away the plans for the evening that i had.

4 weeks into school.
7 people.
1 car.
1 giant detour.
1 flat tire.
1 national park. 

i think this is part of this thing called college. 

everyone needs a sabbath, a day of rest.
well, those are hard to come by here.

sunday is church in two languages other than your own, one that you understand & one that you don't, and it's hard.  bodies are squeezed on backless wooden benches like beads on a string.
men, women & children sections, splashes of colors in a mixed up rainbow, with our pale skin being the only inconsistency in the strands.
the blessing of rain only brings mixed feelings when strained ears are put to the test as african rains hit the tin of roofs.
it's the sabbath, and learning to love worshiping our Savior even when it's not how we would first choose.
it's learning how to truly worship.
it's learning how to learn how to embrace the culture that we love, that's not our own.
following the example that He gace when He came to a culture other than His own, to bring glory to the Father. 

i think i understand a little.
 it's just the tiniest, teeniest drop in the ocean of the feeling, but at least i have that much.

it hurts to love.
now i'm not speaking about a country song or taylor swift kind of heart-break hurt.
i'm talking sick to your stomach, nauseating, overwhelming feelings that you can't wrap your mind around hurt.
the kind that keeps you up at night, pleading with God to understand and be able to grasp.
that kinda hurt.

i think just about every time i find a new c.s. lewis quote i think it's my favorite until i find the next…

__________________________________ 

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”

-c.s. lewis

_________________________________

i'm surrounded.
up,
down,
left,                                                                                                                                            right,
everywhere.

hurt and loss and sickness and pain; it's everywhere.
and it's right on the surface, up close and personal, screaming in my face "i'm here!".
and as members of 1st world societies we have the privilege of (for the majority of the time) not having to see it.
but here it's not even just what i can see, i hear it 24/7.

a baby cries and our dog barks.
the toddler that lives behind us screams and the dog barks.
and constantly, nagging at the front of my mind is: are they hurt?  are they being hurt?  but all the while i know, that other than placing them before the throne of grace, there's nothing i can do for them.

and i feel helpless.

because i like to fix.
it's who i am, i want to fix.
but it's overwhelming and everywhere and if i am not careful i get overwhelmed + my body goes into protection mode: shut down.

the obstacles that are set in front of every situation, from our earthly perspective, are impossible to overcome.
how in the world can this be fixed?
how can this be made better?

when it hurts, remember it hurts Him too.
when our heart breaks for the loss of love and the relationships that can no longer be, remember He's there crying beside you.

because when i see the hurt and the loss and the pain in the faces that fill my view, i trust that just as he heals up my broken heart + my wounds, he is right there waiting to heal and bind up theirs.

there's things that come at times that aren't ready for them.
or we aren't ready for them.
either way, it's just not right.

so now i'm gonna give you the archives

the things that came, but it wasn't time.

so think throwback, flashback, that whole things.  just without the overused, although sometimes helpful hashtag.

we're going back to forever ago, to all those little things that slip behind the couch and between the cracks.
they gather dust, random words cling to their surface but with one eyes-closed blow, the light once again hits them.
beautiful, ugly, raw, real.
however they are, there they be.

gone over with an Author-grown pen that has been softened or sharpened as He has guided the sharpening grind of the stones.
it's been a growing process, tearing down and building up.
one that is still happening, it's still in full swing + i'm still learning to lean into it, turning my face to the one who knows when my finicky flesh tries to take over + spread panic.
He is the only one who can truly ease it all, cause He knows.
and not only does He know, He loves me.
in my broken, rebellious, sinful state of humanity that has it's grip on me, He loves me still.
and it's still happening, and forever will be.
the going over.
again and again and again.
as we strive towards the city that is not of this earth, but is of heaven.

 so once again, the archives.