Processing the Real and Ugly

I knew the process of reaching the end of me, processing grief would be hard.

I knew it would be gut level. I knew it would dig deeper than anything I’ve ever experienced before in my life and I knew that moving to Africa would bring me to that place.

But I didn’t know it would get so ugly. so personal. so so real.

I had no idea.

Maybe it is just me, maybe I feel things to close to heart, I don’t know… but I’ve never heard an overseas worker really talk about the inner battle that occurs deep down inside the heart of a person who walks this road. A person who gives up family, home, culture, language, belongings… to go to settle in a new land.

I don’t know if it’s just me or not… but I’m processing the real and the ugly.

Trying to get to the core of what God is trying to show me in this season.

We were sitting at lunch, Jeremy and I. The sun was bright and the trees still in the full bloom of rainy season. Temperatures were sitting right at 100 degrees and the mosquitoes were out in full force.

I sat there, contemplating everything and feeling close to tears. Then, blurting out a question, asking Jeremy, “What is the hardest thing for you right now?”

He commented on a few situations… in a manly, to-the-point way of course.

I, all girly and teary, responded when he returned the same question.

Tears. Big, fat crocodile tears dripping down my sunglasses and onto the table beneath my elbows.

Answering that question was easy. I can list all kinds of things that are hard for me. Things that more than ever before are making me want to go home.

But why?

What is at the core of those hard things?

I just kept talking… poor Jeremy… trying to work out in words… again poor Jeremy… what I was feeling and thinking.

{and now poor you because I’m still trying to work it out in words… this time in print, right here}

Every hard thing I could list boiled down to processing grief, processing the loss of me.

Just when I think I’ve dug deep enough in this season… more layers appear. More dirt falls in the places in my heart I thought well dug. More shovels of feelings that need hefted, sorted and dealt with.

Again, just me? I don’t know.

But, as I talked and cried and reasoned out loud, I felt it truly boiling down to that one word. Grief, pure grief.

Not just the end of me, but MISSING me, and processing grief.

Missing the “capable, independent, fluid, multi-tasking, get it done” me.

Missing the homeschool planner, the teacher, the minivan driver, the coffee date organizer, the Chick-fil-a frequenter, the mall visitor, the Target shopper, the Jeremy helper. Missing the girl with long, blow-dryed hair, a little brush of makeup and cute boots. Missing all that she was in some other place where all of that was possible.

Just plain missing the me I used to be, digging into a deeper layer that I didn’t even know was there and grieving her loss.

Processing Grief – Global Trellis resources for global workers

Who is this girl? What is she becoming? And even deeper, do I even WANT to become her?

Then, the guilt hits for even thinking such thoughts. Who thinks such things?

And while still talking this out with Jeremy, I heard myself saying, “Jeremy… I’m so tired of trying to become someone that I’m not. Every single day I have to braver than I want to be. I have to be physically and mentally stronger than I am. I have to be more courageous, more street smart, more out there, more out of my comfort zone. Every day I have to push and push. Learn and discover. Try harder than the day before. To live here I have to face fears and jump hurdles and climb mountains. To thrive here I have to get new skills. Nothing that I was before will work here. Nothing that I know how to do already helps me here. The ME that I want to be can’t succeed here. A new me has to be born and I just miss me, the old me. I want ME to be all that’s required for a day. I’m tired of having to be something each day that doesn’t come naturally to me. I have to fight to be brave and courageous. I have to fight to be street smart. I have to fight, look fear in the eyes and climb another mountain and learn a new skill that I have no idea how to do. I want to be free to be me but that doesn’t do me any good here. and I know there is no easy answer. there is no way through but through…”

The words just kept pouring out. Honestly, the words have yet to stop.

I keep turning them over and over, letting the honesty of them bring clarity to my feelings about this place I find myself in.

It takes time. Lots of time. The settling in is more than just putting our clothes on hangers and getting our internet hooked up. Although each of those things took many days…

The settling in is personal. deep. multi-faceted.

And I find myself smack dab in the center of this ugly, real, settling process.

Resource – Looming Transitions by Amy Young

No way through but through…

I was praying this morning, crying out to God for His help. Knowing if He wants me to live here, He’s going to have to supernaturally birth a new me. Breathing sweet prayers, asking God to make a way through for me.

After a few days of truly just sensing God loving me through the tears, sadness, and grief, I felt prompted to re-read Jeremiah 1, the chapter God used to call both Jeremy and I to overseas work.

So, I did. And, Hmmm… God still, just like the last time I read the passage, had answers for all of Jeremiah’s reasons for not being able to do what God was asking him to do.

As God opened my eyes, I again saw in that story, the end of Jeremiah. The end of who he was and life as he knew it as he took up the call and followed God’s plan.

{It sure wasn’t a pretty plan and I can see why Jeremiah didn’t want it.}

But, he did it anyway. For the love of the nation of Israel, Jeremiah laid his “me” down and picked up the call of God.

That recognition in Jeremiah’s story of the same sacrifice I face – truly we all face, this laying down of ourselves – reminded me of something King David once said. At the end of 2 Samuel 24. Verse 18 begins the story of when David refused to take land and animals for free, wanting to offer God a sacrifice that cost him something.

David said it this way in verse 24, “No, I insist on paying you for it. I will not sacrifice to the Lord my God burnt offerings that cost me nothing.”

But go back just a few verses. Why was David offering this sacrifice anyway?

Because he’d sinned. He’d counted his fighting men. He wanted to make sure his army was strong enough, equipped enough, brave enough, big enough, smart enough to face any enemy. He wanted to be sure they were skilled, ready, and courageous.

He wanted to know all these things were in place before trouble even knocked on the door.

And God didn’t like it.

God didn’t want him counting his fighting men, his strengths, his assets.

Why?

Because GOD was ALL David needed.

David didn’t need any of those men, whether he thought he did or not. If God wanted them to win the battle, they would win regardless of numbers.

This is what I need. I need to remember that God is all I need.

I don’t need to be anything but me because God will step in, as promised and make a way for me. He will step in and be everything I am not. He will do what I can not do. He will be all that is needed.

He just wants me to willingly be a part of it.

But that is hard to wrap my brain around when I still have to physically walk these tough days… still grieve.

In the book I’m currently reading, the author says, “I love the fact that God’s plans cannot be thwarted. No matter what battles are raging in your life today, recognize that God is sovereign. His faithfulness will come through for you.”

I’m clinging to that truth today.

Still missing me. Still tired of daily needing to be more than I am. Still knowing that to get through, I must keep moving forward, moving through, learning new skills, putting on my brave face and wearing my big girl shoes.

In that missing of me, I’m trusting that God in His great faithfulness, will work it all out, fight the battles, walk before me, pave the way and guide this new me I’m becoming. Knowing that He is loving the me I am today. He truly is a Good, Good Father.

Like David, I refuse to offer a sacrifice that costs me nothing. I refuse to live this life and reach the end without having ever fought a real battle of faith, without having walked through the fires of life, without reaching for new heights in my relationship with Jesus. I don’t want to sit on the sidelines… I want God to take me all in.

Even when it costs more than I want or feel able to give. I refuse to get to the end and realize that my offered sacrifice really cost me nothing when God freely gave everything.

But the process is real, ugly and painful. 

What process are you going through in your walk overseas?

Have you ever felt this way?

What do you do in processing grief, transition, change and pain of choosing to follow Jesus?