Why would He ask me to serve, only to not be received by those He sent me to serve alongside?
Why would He allow me to be the only staff member excluded from closing ceremonies, not named into the tribe?
Why would He want my children to be alone, to become independent of the family life I have worked so hard to build?
Why would He sustain me while I was there, only to allow such arid depletion upon my return home?
Was I wrong about everything?
When others ask me about the time there I feel I must give a pretty answer. But it was not pretty. I feel they have no box for what my heart holds, all the confusion. So I am quiet, reclusive. Being there was torture to me in many ways. And what that torture has brought out in me I am ashamed of. What it has brought out is my longing for acceptance, my entitlement regarding my family, my belief in something that may only resemble Christ. It has brought out that when my blistered sacrifices are not met with expected results, my heart turns a biting cold.
the tree I sat underneath crying many a day this summer
My idea of God has been shattered anew. Of course, I know that He has shattered it Himself.