Well, in only a few short hours I will be leaving for the airport. I figured I’d better update my blog for those of you who will be SayJay deprived over the course of the next 9 or 10 days, haha : )

People keep asking me if I’m excited. Of course I’m excited! But I haven’t figured out what I feel yet. I am terrible at self-analysis, I really am. I try every day to figure myself out, and haven’t been able to yet. I am very excited, but despite the nearness of my new adventure, it still feels far away. I am not sure why, but it doesn’t really feel like reality yet, though my bags are packed, I’m ready to go (I’m standing here outside your door… hehe)…

I have been trying my hardest to let the Lord prepare my heart. The funny thing is that I keep thinking of India, because it’s the only thing I can even remotely compare this to. Though I didn’t feel totally different when I came home from India, it influences my every day conversation and thought patterns, especially when it comes to traveling, airplanes, children, hospitals, grocery stores, children, time differences, orphanages, the Bible, persecution, children. Did I mention children?

My heart periodically aches for the things I saw and experienced a couple of years ago. Bittersweet is the best word for it. I have fantastic memories and terrible memories. Discomfort and joy hand in hand. Pain and sorrow and disbelief and shock and understanding. When people ask what India is like I can only describe it as a junkyard full of beautiful people.

And the children are the ones I really ache for. If only I could put into the words the first time I visited the huge 1500 child orphanage. Maybe I’ll try and in so doing be able to decide what I am thinking about this next week.

The first time we visited the orphanage in Kota, India, we pulled into the dusty place in the charter bus that had pretty much been our home for 2 days of travel through the devastated countryside. 1500 children sat in the shade studying lessons with their teachers, dressed in warm sweaters as we peeled off our light sweatshirts in the sticky weather. It was winter to them, being December, but being so much nearer to the equator than we were used to, we were roasting while they shivered. As the bus pulled into view, the entire group of beautiful, beautiful children rose and rushed in a sea toward our bus. The 15 of us white folks timidly stepped out of the bus and were submerged by this wave of grins and incredulity. Their dark skin surrounding our light flesh, they tried to rub off the “powder” they were convinced we must have on. Immediately 5 or 6 children latched onto my arms, and walking became a chore in itself with the little creatures clinging to me. My blonde hair handled by dirty little fingers, my blue eyes gazed at in skepticism, and I just standing by wanting to absorb the perfection amidst grime that I was besieged by.

These were kids who had been either abandoned by parents who didn’t want them or who couldn’t afford them. These were the lowest of the low in the entire country. These were outcastes, literally. But they had come to this orphanage run by a man who had such vision to raise an army for the Lord, to shame the wise with the weak. They had found family and were continually thanking God and others in a manner I was dumbfounded by. How could you witness this and not be forever changed in your attitude about the blessings God has rained down upon us as Americans?

So, though I knew going into India that my heart would be broken, even if it took months to realize its brokenness, this time I really KNOW. Being in the midst of such pain and poverty and yet coming in contact with men and women who literally have given all they have and all their dreams up for the Lord cannot do else but bring me to a greater realization of passion and dedication for my God. I hope to be expendable for His work, that I, not being needed, might anyways be allowed to bring His great and unimaginable glory to these people, and that they might bring it to me as well, that we may be “mutually encouraged” (Romans 1:12). I hope to die a thousand deaths to myself over this next week, that His life might be seen through my very eyes, though my flesh struggle against it. I long to be a fool for my God, to live my life in such a way that if God did not exist, nothing I do would make sense. For I am convinced of the work He has done in my life, and I know now that I may be bringing aid of some sort to others, but really I am going on this trip as greater refinement and for a renewed sense of “working out my salvation with fear and trembling.” I might leave Guatemala and may be quickly forgotten, but I know that doesn’t matter in the least, and I know the Lord will use it to conform me to His image, to the image He has purposed me for.

I am waiting in great anticipation and hoping that some wonderful friendships might grow out of this trip. My goal is to represent Christ to all I encounter, particularly my team. I know I am gifted in encouragement, and so I render that to Him so that I may bring His joy and peace through whatever we struggle through, be it manual labor or heartbreak over the sights that many of them are unprepared for. Not that I myself claim to be prepared, but I am perhaps closer to being prepared than others who have never been on a mission trip, or who have never been out of the country. Culture shock is hard to swallow.

This is long. Very long, but I think I’m entitled to writing something long and pouring out my heart before I undertake this great commission. For any of you reading this that have been praying for me, I appreciate your prayers beyond what I can say. Through your great prayer support the Lord has chosen to bless me with the finances to be able to get on this plane tonight. I beg that you remember me in your prayers until I come back, since a prayer wall surrounding behind and before will aid in the attack Satan is sure to bring. Health and safety and team unity would be great things to include if you think of it.

“But the Lord stood at my side and gave me strength, so that through me the message might be fully problaimed and all the Gentiles might hear it. And I was delivered from the lion’s mouth. The Lord will rescue me from every evil attack and will bring me safely to his heavenly kingdom. To him be glory for ever and ever. Amen.” (2 Timothy 4:17-18)

Yours in His precious promises,
Sarah