Heaviness...

My once clean floor has now become a pile of haphazardly tossed clothes. My bed hasn't been made in weeks and I can't remember the last time I actually saw the top of my dresser.

   My memories from Africa are fading.

And I'm looking at pictures and reading through my journals.

   My heart is heavy. Weighted down by the inability to recall a child's face or voice. Weighted down by the burden of so much love. Weighted down by the life around me that has seemingly returned to normal and I'm still reaching back trying to hold onto something that I am still struggling to unravel, still struggling to understand.

  And my mind has been plagued with those faces across the ocean, burden by their hurts and pains and the things I can only imagine they are going through, and also filled with faces from home, new faces of kids and people I have began to fall in love with. Worried and burdened by their struggles of home life and school and bullying and unknown issues.

 I feel so heavy. My mind, my eyes, my heart. Heavy.

   Lately I've lacked the motivation to even brush my hair, or pick my clothes up off the floor, or even pick myself up off the floor.

  I spend most of my days at work and when I'm not there I spend most of my time face down on the floor of my messy room, thinking, and praying, and crying. Heavy. Burdened.

  And I forget I asked for this. I prayed for this. To be burden with love. It's a beautiful thing. It's a hard thing. But most things worth living for, most things worth fighting for are beautiful and hard. But the longer I'm away from Africa, the heavier I get.

It's hard to explain. That my heart is here and there. Two places, two homes. My heart is in the hands of those ebony faces, and my family I lived with, and the sick and dying, and orphaned and widowed. But my heart is also here, in the hands of my sisters and brothers and parents. In the hands of him. in the hands of friends, and in the hands of these beautiful new kids that I've come to know and grown to love.

And the burdens are there. In both places. Deep in my heart.

If I'm honest right now I'm weary with life and not sure what to do with myself.

Memories are fading and I just want to hold onto them tight.

And I'm looking at God asking Him what He wants with my life? Whatever it is I want Him to take it. These burdens I have asked for and received and now I am trying to figure out what to do with them. And I'm realizing I'm not alone in this. That there are others with burdens just like mine, who are in my life to talk through things with me, and love me even when my eyes are puffy red from crying and rambling through prayers. I'm seeing that God is ever-so close to me as I continue to draw nearer to Him.

Realizing that what I've asked for I must also continually give right back up to Him in faith and in trust. Knowing that I can do nothing for these kids, for these burdens on my own, without Him. And I'm seeing that even though the memories fade, my love and my passion will not.

That even thought right now I feel like my heart is all the way at my feet, weighted down, that He is lifting me up, He is showing me that I need to stop over-thinking and just start praying more. To continue to seek Him and His will for my life. To stop trying to second guess my path, because He is leading me.

  To find Joy.

   Even in the most unlikely places.

 And I think I will start with picking the clothes up off my floor.


  HIS and yours,

  Cami