Due to her health struggles, she's had to learn some difficult restraint for a 4 year old. One of the first Portuguese phrases she learned was "não posso ter proteinas" - I can't have proteins. We've watched time after time as her friends in Vila Pantanal have shoved cookies, cake, or cheetos in her face only to see her stand confident and recite her phrase. It breaks our heart, well mostly mine... Shannon has a stronger confidence that not eating crap food is a good thing for her, while I view it as a devastating tragedy. But enough of my issues.
One of the constant conversations around the dinner table has begun like this . . . "Daddy, when I get back to eggs, I'm going to be so happy!" or "Daddy, when I get back to cheeseburgers, I'm going to eat six at one time!" She never says this complaining or frustrated, but with a simple tone of hope and expectation rising out of a place of contentment. She's handled it much better than I ever could have. The tone changes slightly on tougher days when a different verse is sung that goes more like this . . . "Daddy, when I get back to the United States, I'm going to play dress up with Hannah because I miss her so much!"
Out of these simple conclusions, I've come to the conclusion that my daughter is one of the world's most brilliant theologians. Ok, I'm good at overstating things, but at least I'm confident that she's on the way. The longing and desire for things to be as they should be, even as she rests content in the midst of this challenge, is an example that I'm trying to learn to follow.
I know that life is not what it's supposed to be, I know that this world, all of us as a people, were created for more than what I see daily on the streets. Too often in my life, I've let this fact draw me into frustration and lead me towards a life of complaining, moping, pouting, and the occasional temper tantrum.
The first time I was struck with the reality that this world was not what it was meant to be was my first trip to Haiti. Driving through the streets as the stench of sewage washed into the streets and the sight of blocks of landfills full of people picking through the trash slammed my senses, I caught the gaze of a lady staring back into my eyes. I noticed her humanity, she wasn't just an object on the side of the road, but had flesh, feelings, and thoughts like I did, she was made in the image of God. Up until that point, I assumed that this dump of a life was all people like her had ever known. So, not knowing anything better, they probably were content in this life because they knew no better. But when I locked eyes with this lady, I knew, she knew, she was meant for more. They all were. We all are. Even the comfort and luxuries of life in the States come with aches, pains, frustrations and brokenness.
My deepest hope and desire is to see the Kingdom of God in all of its fullness. Lion laying with lamb, peace in fullness on a recreated Earth, with Jesus leading and guiding all the world in His physical presence. But now, I wrestle in the tension. I don't live in hopelessness, because I believe His Kingdom is already here, inbreaking, coming forth. But I know there's more to be had. I long for all humanity to experience the moment WHEN WE GET BACK TO . . . what it was all meant to be in the first place.
When Naomi speaks of what she wants to get back to, it sends me off into a daze, thinking about the things that I long for in the same way. Sometimes it is just very simple things. To sit and sip a freezing cold beer in a world free of alcoholism, addiction, and abuse. To enjoy the fruit of creation in this form without concern that I'll cause trouble for someone else and send them spiraling into a pattern of life that wrecks and wastes theirs and the lives of those they love. Jesus said at the last supper that He wouldn't taste wine again until He drank it anew with those He loved at the consummation of His eternal Kingdom. I know there's going to be some shock for some there who have embraced certain valid callings in this life. But I can't wait to hear the roar of laughter at the freedom we'll experience as we begin to tip back the greatest wine we've ever tasted!
Other times, it's very situational. When I get back to being understood. Most of this has been brought to mind by the simple fact of language acquisition. However, there's a deeper longing there that I've learned all about through my very cross-cultural marriage to my hygienically questionable neo-hippie! We've always had a great marriage, are madly in love, and yet have forever spoken two different dialects of the same language. Communication has always been our weak point, even though we've gotten a lot better. We can almost communicate with each other as well as we communicate with the Brazilians here, almost. But there is this longing, to be understood. Scripture talks of a time when we will fully know as we are fully known. Often we emphasize the excitement of being able to fully know, especially us Americans, we value information. It's legit, to grasp, understand, and appreciate, every scar, every pain, every moment of frustration . . . to see it redeemed, painted, and infiltrated with meaning and significance. It is legit. At the same time, for me, there's just this deeper desire to grasp what it would be like to be fully known . . . fully understood, fully accepted, fully appreciated (and to receive that without doubts or confusion).
However, too much of the time lately, it's serious emotional things. As my beautiful brown-eyed whacko starts to speak of "when I get back to" my heart pounds out the deep emotional yearnings of "when I get back to" watching you, my beloved little daughter, run and dance and play. When I get back to hearing you sing, listening to your jokes, watching you climb the monkey bars without this nagging incessant inspection for the slightest little slur in your speech, the simplest little falter in your step, the smallest hesitation in your thought and the constant wonder if something dreadful is going to happen. When I get back to trusting that you're going to be just fine. When I get back to a world without illness, pain, or suffering.
In truth, she's been great since we've gotten here. It's been three months since any issue (other than the emergency room visit after she fell and slammed her head). Even as I write this, and even as I ponder, I feel the presence of the One who has suffered through my moral seizures and paralysis. Who's watched over me as I've stumbled and fallen and bled. When I think of this I can't help but feel hope arise and faith grow and hold on with anticipation for the great moment to come of "when I get back to".
I love this post much! I just adore how our Father created parenting to teach us more and more about Him BUT also to make us more like Him! Oh, and I also love Naomi's heart!!!
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing.