Fellowship of Suffering

Last night I laid in bed for over an hour, crying almost the whole time. I missed home so badly. My mind kept replaying last week’s scene of Renae softly rubbing Cora’s back, immediately jumping to memories of my own mom. It created a physical ache in my chest. Then I’d picture Lindsay taking Eva’s hand during Thursday’s prayer meeting, coming before the Lord as husband and wife, and be filled emotion, once again. I kept asking God to hold me. My whole being was just aching to be held. I wanted my mom, my dad, my brothers, my sister, my grandparents, my aunts and uncles, my cousins, my pastors, my friends, my future husband, my God. I really wasn’t feeling too discriminating. People here don’t hug. I was absolutely craving physical touch. Last night, I didn’t want to mask the pain by distracting myself with a book or a movie or a letter home. I just wanted the Lord. I want to get to the place where I can be ok with just Him. I kept asking for Him, and I completely trusted Him. But I couldn’t feel Him as deeply as I wanted. There had to be more. There had to be. But He wasn’t filling the void. I felt so lonely. All I could do was espero for someday. But could I bear the time between now and then? And then I got so mad at myself. Why was I so upset? God had blessed me with so much! Why couldn’t I focus on all of His gifts? Why couldn’t I have more joy? I felt like such a failure. Mind over matter, Alyssa. Come on, stop being so self-centered. I felt like such a failure for feeling sorry for myself. I wanted to talk to Lori. I knew she’d understand loneliness. I can’t understand hers; it’s so much more profound. But I knew she’d understand mine. I’m sure there are many days, no, many times each day, when she has to turn her head away because she just can’t watch mothers interacting with their little girls. Sometimes, you don’t want people to say anything conciliatory. You want to look into their eyes and know they understand. You just don’t want to be alone. Last night, though, I felt really alone. I just cried and cried and cried. And it was storming, outside.

I woke up, this morning, to crashing thunder and heavy rain. I wanted to skip church more than anything. But I went and it was incredible. God gave me joy during the time of musical worship. Joy. What a gift. My brain checked out toward the end of the Spanish sermon (as it regularly does), but something the pastor said made everyone start hugging one another. It was a church service unlike any I had ever seen. Last night I had laid in bed craving the embrace of my dad, grandpa, uncles, and brothers. This morning, for the first time in Paraguay, I was hugged by Joel, Cecia, Janice, Laura, Lucas, Leti, David Chamoro, Maka-ko, and Ana. It was incredible. Thank You, God. Thank You. You are good. Thank You for loving me. And thank You for demonstrating that love in such a specific way.

Many people were tearful. At one point I was standing with David, Cecia, and Janice. David noticed Ana standing alone, whispered something to the girls, and they went over to hug her. Soon after, I looked over and saw Leti sitting by herself, eyes red and face downcast. I went over to her, moved the books on the seat next to her, sat down, and put my arm around her slumped shoulders. She laid her head on my shoulder and just cried and cried and cried. I knew the feeling. We didn’t exchange any words for the first 5-10 minutes, at which point I asked if she wanted to talk. She said no. A few moments later, I felt led to ask if she missed her dad. She nodded yes. “Me, too,” I said in a broken voice. We both started crying, again. We didn’t have to say anything else.

My pain can’t be compared with Leti’s. Her dad abandoned their family to start a new one in Argentina. She’s only 15. I have felt dropped and abandoned, though not by my dad. But I still miss him, a lot. I’ve felt really alone, here. But I know that my dad loves me. I can always go back to him. He hasn’t chosen to leave me. I wish rejection and loss weren’t a part of my life experience portfolio. I wish I never felt alone. This morning, though, I was so thankful to be able to cry with Leti. I still can’t wait for Christmas, though.