Resilience

I had a conversation with my downstairs neighbor this afternoon. We've had a few conversations over the year that we've both lived here, mostly guessing as to whose apartment will be the first finished, all the dust and noise the carpenters made, etc. Nothing too deep. I had no idea that she really noticed me or what I'm doing much at all. Guess it's hard not to notice the gangs of children moving up and down the stairs and in and out of my apartment, though, especially during school breaks.

Anyway, today myself and the night watchman were moving mattresses, bags, cases, etc. out of my apartment the short walk over to the school. Her first comment was "You're one strong lady." I thought she was just saying something about the fact that I was the one that was moving the things physically myself. Her point was different.

She went on to ask me how I kept doing what I was doing, mostly without the help of a big organization backing me. She asked me what kept me going, what kept me from giving up.

She kept saying that I was so resilient. That's not really a word that I would normally throw out to describe myself. I would use something like shy, quiet, nothing special, etc.

And honestly, I don't know what (besides God) that keeps me going. Life here is hard. The need is enormous. The hurting around me is devastating and there is a limit to what I can do. I've watched children, friends, co-workers die. I've seen things that can't be put into words. But, I love it here. I don't want to be anywhere else.

I've been told before that I was a fighter. It seems life has never been simple or easy for me. I've always seem to have a stumbling block in my way. It seems things have always been harder for me than those around me. I remember my high school principal telling me on numerous occasions that I am a fighter and that she admired my never giving up.

I wish I could see more of this in myself. Most of the time, I'm comparing myself to others (not something I'm proud of doing) and thinking that I'll never measure up. I look at the missionaries around me that are doing really big things, and see that what I'm doing is like only a drop in a bucket.

I've slowly started to realize that although the things I do may seem small and insignificant, possibly to one individual they are meaningful and making a difference. I know that was the case in my life. Every mountain that I had to climb, there was someone climbing it with me. My high school principal and her daughter, one of my teachers, never let me give up. Maybe that is what drives me. Hoping that for a handful of these kids it will make a difference. Hoping that they will find a way out of the chaos they live in. Hoping that they will have a better future than what has been behind them.

But, the thing that keeps me here, and keeps me going, the most: I feel that I am right where God wants me to be, doing exactly what God wants me to be doing. And His grace is sufficient for every situation, every mountain to climb, every tear that falls, every failure, every heart break, and every downfall.