Heart Musings

Here I am, sitting on my bed, alone in my room. On the wall across from me are four cork boards with pictures and notes from my family and friends back home and abroad. As I peruse my eyes lazily over them from picture to picture one catches my eye and suddenly the room around me melts and I am in jeans and a “Do Hard Things” T-shirt, sweat is building up on my brow as I shovel rocks on to the driveway.

I am in Mexico, and my thoughts are wandering as I work. This is our last day here after eight of the most incredible days of my life. I muse over the last few weeks and being amazed at how incredible God was. * I shoveled with more vigor as I thought over it all* He had been working in my heart intensely for several months now as I had fervently been praying that he would be lighting a fire for Him inside me. I wanted to be consumed by Him and a passionate love for Him… “Hey Hillary..”

I was suddenly jolted out of my thoughts by one of the young men on the team. He held out his hand, “May I have your shovel, and do that for you?” I smiled and gave it one final thrust into the rocks before giving him the handle. He offered an amusing comment about how I was making them look bad and I backed away thinking again. We were so blessed, with so many true gentlemen on our team. More than once I was amazed by their kindness and consideration.

As I continued musing, my thoughts turned back to Mexico and the trip in general. Here I was with several other young people who shared that vision, it was surreal how we all got along so well and all knew exactly what our focus and missions was here. Why did God choose this group from around the country and why did He choose me to come along as well? Either way I was insanely happy that He had! My heart was broken at the migrant camp when I was faced with the reality of the “children on the other side of the world”, my soul was lifted in the morning bible studies, and evening praise. God was so good! Life was so perfect! And the passion I had been praying for was growing.

Suddenly, Mexico faded and there I was again in my room, there was the picture of the boys shoveling that I took only a few moments after my musing. Here I was halfway across the country from home, with no friends anywhere within an hour’s drive, and not a Christian in sight. There were no gentlemen in this “every man for himself” city, or at least in nearly a month of being here, I had yet to meet one. My days are filled with walking dogs and bouncing a teething baby. Thirteen weeks and three days ago I was standing on the Coult’s porch feeling the salty ocean breeze on my face, watching the boys work, and praising God for the work He was doing in my heart. This was not exactly the grand plan I had when I came home.

A little truth began to creep over me and fill my heart. My heart was breaking again, but this time for a different reason; my heart was broken because I was not. I was breaking… but not broken. I was still holding on to a little. I wanted to be sold out for Christ without selling out! I had been feeling His gentle tug as He pulled me nearer and nearer in my loneliness. I had nowhere to turn but for Him, and suddenly when I did turn to His arms for comfort, I did not need anything beyond what He had already provided.

I am not in Mexico, I am in Washington State. God is still in Mexico, but guess what? God is also in Washington State. I am not left, I am not forsaken, I am still growing, God is still here, God is still working!