As I sit here in a quiet house, in the dark of night, alone, I feel like it is costing too much. My mama is having surgery right now. Everything in me wishes to be there, sitting in the waiting room, waiting to hear she made it through just fine. I want to be the one making her meals and cleaning her house when she can’t do it. I want to pay her back just a little for everything she has so selflessly done for me. And I can’t.
There are moments when life over here feels so worth it. When everything feels like sunshine and rainbows. The language clicks, the friendships form easily. Conversations are fruitful and lives are changed.
Then there are days when nothing goes right. When you find yourself tucked into the corner of the kitchen sitting on a stool weeping into your arms because you just can’t figure out how to keep going.
It seems like every day is a new day of counting the costs. What am I giving up to be here? What of those things do I need to lay at Father’s feet because I am not actually entitled to them like I feel that I am? It is an endless cycle of refinement, filled to the brim with the evidence of my sin and utter need for a Savior. And you know what? Jesus knew this about me. He knew I would struggle. He knew I would cry. He knew I would throw little fits and let my emotions carry me up and down. And He still chose me. He chose me. That, my friend, is love. True Love.