Hello All,
"If you've ever known the love of God, you know it's nothing but reckless and it's nothing but raging. Sometimes it hurts to be loved, and if it doesn't hurt it's probably not love, may be infatuation. I think a lot of American people are infatuated with God, but we don't really love Him, and they don't really let Him love them. Being loved by God is one of the most painful things in the world, it's also the only thing that can bring us salvation and it's like everything else that is really wonderful, there's a little bit of pain in it, little bit of hurt." -- R. Mullins
The silence this past year and even in 2016 hasn’t been an accident. It hasn’t been due to busyness or distraction. It’s because I’ve been processing. I like to say what I mean, clearly. And, in these years, I haven’t even known what I mean. I break the silence now because I feel like I’ve reached a culmination—not easy answers or even a conclusion—but a kind of graduation. And I want to be honest about that.
This year, I have been so blessed. Jesus has proven Himself so faithful in so many faith-stretching ways that I just marvel, especially financially. But, this year has also had non-stop undertones of loss even in the midst of joy, and my heart has been in the grips of that pain not seeing a way out. I’m just now seeing some light to walk towards, and it’s in embracing His presence even in the pain.
This year started with the excitement of planning a wedding which, having gotten engaged in November, was expected. But, it also started with many unexpected difficulties. My idea of what ministry was going to look like this year, who I’d be partnering with, who my dependable friends were, etc. turned upside down in a bizarre matter of months. It’s always been hard for me to make friends though I’m a 100% kind of person. My INFJ personality probably hasn’t helped in that realm, but cultural differences here only add to the obstacles for me. For someone so loyal and so quick to invest so wholly in someone, friendship losses always take a huge toll on my heart. Working through those losses I still can’t explain has proven very challenging for me this year even in the midst of much joy in getting married.
In January, Raúl’s aunt died. She was so young and left behind an adopted daughter. She’d had many stomach-related health problems. But, she seemed to be improving. However, being hospitalized for a long time led to pneumonia and sepsis, and her death was and continues to be very hard on his family. That same month, my grandfather had an unsuccessful surgery to remove a cancerous tumor in his lung. That surgery proved to be more complicated than anticipated, and for a few weeks, everything hung in the balance. Though he recovered, he has been in his own ongoing fight through chemo and radiation and just weakness. The unknown has been breathing down our necks this whole year.
Planning a wedding was fun in many creative ways, but it was also an adventure in loss. We were able to have so many nice details that we probably never would have been able to afford in the States, but I also had to come to terms with cultural aspects of Honduras that I would’ve never wanted or imagined at my wedding growing up as a little girl. And, having so few people come from the States left me telling Raul often, “This is going to be a nice wedding, but this isn’t me.” Part of that is because it needed to be a combination of the two of us, and we were in his country, not mine. Raúl is much more social than I am, so the wedding was much larger than I ever would’ve wanted for myself. It was also hard to come to terms with my grandparents and other relatives not being there. And, those losses are no one’s fault. Being married to someone from another country is always going to bring about trade-offs. But it also brings about unexpected rewards. Just because my life doesn’t look like what I imagined it would as a kid doesn’t mean that it’s bad. It just means that there will be losses to process.
Overall, the wedding, though not “me” necessarily was such a display of God’s love. It felt like a mission in and of itself. I can’t count how many people—some of whom I’d never met—came up to me afterward and said, “I have never been to a better wedding. I have never felt so much love in one place. The way you and Raúl love each other, the way your family loves you, was just inspiring.” For a country where marriage often isn’t considered sacred and extramarital affairs are the norm and where the institution of the family is threatened, being an example of Jesus’ love one to another was priceless. We made it a point to have a time of worship, something that I had committed to do years ago because I knew that I wanted God’s tangible presence at my wedding. And, He was there. I can also say that in the midst of feeling so much rejection in relationships this year, our wedding was so restoring because of the friends who came down. My family’s sacrifice in coming, and the service and closeness of my friends Cheryl and Beth and Beth’s husband, Chris, was so reassuring that I am loved, that I’m not too weird to be worthy of friendship, that I am not alone. They’ll never know the depth of the love I felt from them when I needed it most.
These months after the wedding have been a slow-trodden journey not because of my marriage—if anything, Raúl has kept me afloat in many ways just because he remains, listens, and fights for my way out of darkness. But, it’s been many months of wondering why I’m here in Honduras, wondering if there has been any point to my being here for the last six years, and fighting the lie that God sent me here to be rejected. I’ve felt like I’ve lacked a purpose, and I’ve felt like I don’t have the strength to get over the pain of rejection again. It’s not something that you expect from a happy newlywed, but it’s been my reality just the same. But I have been learning. Those lessons are for another post for another time, but I can say that a lack of boundaries play a large part in the pain and rejection I’ve received over the years.
Even so, these months have been baby steps forward. Taking risks in new friendships. Just taking one step closer to Jesus when all I want to do is hide. Once more giving up pain and confusion into His able hands. And, I was feeling new hope rising in September. Meeting new people was a breath of fresh air and a reminder that there is value in who I am even if who I am puzzles others.
Last month, I finished reading Loren Cunningham’s Daring to Live on the Edge, and it was a book that I took the time to digest because it challenged me to return to where I started. His testimonies of God’s great provision and attention to detail and what a joy it is to live an adventure of dependence on the Father were like life being breathed into my lungs. I told God, “I never wanted to have a normal life. I feel like I’ve been getting comfortable, and I don’t like it. I want the adventure. I want to embrace the uncertainties. I want to trust that You’re good and worthy of my dependence.” And, I looked for ways to be more extravagant in generosity. I gave until we were stretched thin. I believe He responded in His own unorthodox way.
At the end of September, I started having symptoms of a mosquito-borne illness. I wasn’t sure if it was dengue, chikungunya, or zika because they have similar symptoms—fever, headache, eye pain upon movement, joint/muscle pain. I just rested and drank liquids. Initially, other than being tired, I was all right and fully expected to just pass the illness with no problems. But, soon, my fever just wouldn’t go down even with medicine. And I was getting weaker. Raúl took me to the public clinic around the time that I’d already had a fever five straight days. They told me to drink fluids and take Tylenol. They also sent for me to get my blood platelets checked. Dengue usually causes your blood platelets to lower. My platelets were low, and the clinic gave me IV fluids and a shot. That night, my fever was at 103 and climbing, and I had already taken all the medicine I could. Raúl panicked and took me to the private, more expensive hospital. Initially, the doctor said if I’d had a fever for six days, I should probably be admitted. He gave me IV fluids and checked my platelets again. My platelets were actually improved. And, the doctor basically told me that I had to be confused about having a fever for so long, that I was remembering wrong, and should go home. That was infuriating! All that night, at home, I had a high fever, delusional nightmares, and extreme stomach pain and acid reflux. I got up around 4 to go to the bathroom and knew something was wrong. By the time I got Raúl up and told him we had to go to the hospital, I was violently throwing up and so weak.
When I got to the same private hospital, there was a new ER doctor on call, and he immediately said I’d have to be admitted. That was a relief in a way that someone was finally recognizing that I needed help, but it was also scary. I haven’t had many good experiences with the medical system in Honduras, and I’d never been hospitalized before. I was hooked up to IVs and a monitor. The next day, they sent me down for an ultrasound. My liver and spleen were enlarged, and there was a free-floating liquid seen around my organs. By this time, my mom had already decided to come down, sensing that things were serious, and knowing she was coming was my relief. Raúl was amazing and continues to be in caring for me. But, we’re a newly married couple; he still doesn’t know my medical allergies. And, it was scary for both of us that if something serious happened, he’d have to make the big decisions by himself. He never would have slept or eaten if my mom wouldn’t have come. With her caring for me, he could get some relief.
After many tests, my doctors (who were great) told me that I had viral hepatitis and that my liver enzyme levels were 10 times the normal. My doctor said, “You’re very lucky you’re young.” They weren’t 100% sure if the viral hepatitis was caused by dengue, typhoid fever, or malaria since all of those could cause similar symptoms. Eventually, after a process of elimination of other exams, they settled on dengue. I really felt like I was going to die at one point. I just felt like my body wasn’t working, and I started talking to God and preparing myself to die if that’s what it was going to come down to. The worst night was when I had two reactions to two medications back to back. I’d been fighting a fever continually while in the hospital. It was one of the reasons they couldn’t let me go home. They tried a new medicine in order to give my liver a break from Tylenol. But, I immediately had a horrible reaction. It was late at night, and Raúl was with me. I felt like I was just drugged. My whole body felt like it weighed a million pounds and was being sucked into the earth. My brain was foggy, and I was slurring my words when I spoke. Raúl told the nurses, and they said, “Oh, that’s just a side effect.” At this point, I wasn’t connected to the monitor, and I thought, “Well, if this drug makes me stop breathing, no one is going to know.” So, I told Raúl he needed to keep an eye on my breathing overnight. He slept nearly all night sitting on a stool with his head on the bed, and I woke up several times to see him praying through the night. They had also transitioned me to take an antibiotic by mouth, which I took the following morning while I still felt drugged up. Within an hour, I was throwing it up. All I could do at that point was lie in bed and cry. I really felt like that was it…my body just wasn’t going to take anymore. Miraculously though, once the reactions wore off, I was doing much better. I was hospitalized four days total.
When we decided to go to the private hospital, I never expected to be hospitalized that long. I also decided to go there because I felt like what I had was serious, and I’ve been in the public hospitals here. They can be such a nightmare. They are much much more affordable, but they are a nightmare. As the days began to pass, and we started getting bills, Raúl and I initially tried to think of how we were going to pay this bill that kept accumulating. And, there was no option of a payment plan. It had to be paid in full the day I was to be discharged. We finally just looked at each other knowing we couldn’t do it and decided to pray. We confessed our need for God’s healing and provision. We renounced our own human efforts at provision, and we told God we trusted Him as our Father to care for us. And He did with abundance!
Our friend, Cheryl, made a donation page, and money began to pour in from some of the most unexpected places. We were so overwhelmed. Honestly, that financial provision and the outpouring of love were so healing for me. Seeing messages from people I hadn’t talked to in years, people from high school and college and co-workers of my parents was just such a reassurance and redemption for a year’s worth of rejection. People I never would have expected to give me a second thought made such sacrificial donations that I just felt so much light flooding the darkness of my little life.
This past year, with so many cultural differences and nearly no friendships with people of my own culture (though I’m seeking those out now!), I have constantly felt like an outsider, like I can’t find anyone who understands or values who I am (other than Raúl), and like I couldn’t handle feeling like an enemy of the Honduran culture. A lot of that comes from being an introvert in an extroverted culture. Some of it comes from being someone who pushes for depth in relationships instead of settling for superficial interactions. Much of it comes from the damage done to my heart in a culture where almost no one keeps their word as a lifestyle. For someone who so values honesty and dependability, being let down by so many people who claim to be like Jesus was just so devastating to me, and it has been building for the six years I’ve been here. And the message I’ve widely received is, “You need to change. Why can’t you be more like us? You’re weird. If you would be more like us, we could like you.” So, having so many people come out of the woodworks of my past to send me encouragement and to believe in my little life as valuable was a hand that just snatched me from that darkness of rejection. We also had a few very special friends here who were so sacrificial in giving of their time and finances to help us in our time of need. We treasure those people because they are so rare here.
Days after leaving the hospital, with my defenses so low, I got a nasty case of strep and broke out into an itchy rash all over my body. My doctor suspected the dengue rash that appears at the end of the illness, but when we had the test done for dengue antibodies, it came back negative! So, now, we have no explanation for really any of the health issues I’ve had for almost three weeks. My liver levels also haven’t been improving as desired, but I take into consideration that I had to take strong antibiotics for the strep and a steroid for the rash which definitely didn’t give my poor liver a break. My doctor wanted to start running tests for auto-immune diseases like lupus, but I just didn’t have peace about it especially since I was improving in every other area. So, I talked to my doctor, and we’ve decided to wait on any more tests or medicines just to give my liver a chance to recuperate and my body to rest.
Currently, the strep is nearly cleared up. The rash is gone. Because my defenses are so low, I’m now fighting some chest congestion. But, I’m not taking medications to give my liver a chance to recover without having to filter more medication. I’m set to see the doctor again on Thursday. I have been eating normally and while I have to be very careful about resting and not relapsing by overworking my body, I am regaining strength, can now walk around some by myself, bathe myself, etc.
I have no idea what’s going on with my body. I have faith that I’m improving, and though I can’t explain it, I have a general faith that this is the closing of a season of insecurity and frustration in my life. Instead of worrying so much about what I’m doing and if it’s good enough and how to be useful in a culture where I don’t seem to fit, I feel value in just being alive...in seeing who I am and who God created me to be as something of value and purpose no matter where I am and no matter how others respond to that. That’s a big victory for me.
We still so appreciate your prayers, and we have been so grateful for the words that have invaded Heaven on my behalf. Your generosity and compassion have impacted me not just in this health crisis but in my crisis of the soul this year.
All my love,
Sarah
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