Daring to be....Me

Proverb #1: Yak roz dIdI dost, dega roz dIdI brAdar.

(Translation: The first day we meet we are friends, the next day we are brothers.)

I first met “Hannah” when I visited the Ancient City in February. She was (and is) the cook at the office. If I were to guess her age, I would say she’s in her early 40’s. However, I’m also aware of how life in this place takes its toll on the appearance of a person so I really can’t be all that certain. Hannah hails from the capital city and is a welcomed blessing when it comes to speaking the local language…as that’s the accent and vocabulary with which I’m the most familiar up to this point. Still…I have a long way to go before I reach the level she “believes” me to be. But bless her heart, she has a sweet spirit and as the proverb above states, after just a few weeks here, she has welcomed me in as her “sister.”

Today I was the last to finish eating lunch (no surprise) and everyone else seemed to have work they needed to rush off and accomplish. That left Hannah and myself alone to converse. It didn’t take but a minute before this sweet lady began to tell me a story. A story that lasted for about 30 minutes. A story about her family…her hardships. A story questioning God’s presence in the midst of these trials. “She’s not getting any younger,” she said. “If God is supposed to be helping, then ‘When?’” Tears were streaming down her face and before long, they were streaming down mine as well.

It’s interesting...this place. It doesn’t take much for a woman to cry. I’ve seen it many times. Whether it be from a burqa-clad beggar on the street asking for medicine money or from my neighbor sharing about the struggle of her day. Here, those tears being shed are her honor. It’s such a contrast to our western/American mindset. Just this week one of my female friends from the States said, “Crying is a sign of weakness.” Hmmm. At its core I disagree with that last statement. But I have to confess, there’s still a part of me that wrestles with its cultural ramifications. For I am one female that finds it difficult to cry. Especially in front of other people. But not today. Today was different.

Today my heart broke for Hannah. Today the tears flowed freely as I tried, with my limited language skills, to comfort her…to tell her not to give up. Today there is hope. While God may not take away hardships…He’s there in the midst of them. After all, His name is Immanuel.

For me it comes down to another lesson in vulnerability.

Vulnerability. God’s been teaching me a lot about it this past year and I’m guessing He’s not finished. Through trials and triumphs, conversations and conflict…allowing myself to be vulnerable is hard. I may get hurt. I may get bruised. I may get laughed at. I may get…hey wait! I may get another opportunity to be like the One who left everything to become one of us.

Vulnerability. There’s nothing more vulnerable than a baby, right?

“So the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” -Jn. 1:14

“While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.” -Lk. 2:6,7

Vulnerability. Tears. Risk. Emotion. Sacrifice.
Learning. Compassion. Love.

These are the words He is speaking to me today. This is the life He is calling me to pursue. May His presence fill us, and them, as the tears fall and the laughter resounds.

He is here. Immanuel. God with us.

Merry Christmas Everyone!