Feverish Ramblings...

So, I think I have a fever.

I think that because of my incessant shivering despite the layers I'm wearing and the bedding that covers me.

I hurt.

I feel like my nerve endings have been electrified.

When I feel like this, sometimes I wish I wasn't by myself. It makes me wish I was at home under the care of my amazing madre so she could play with my hair or rub my back or bring me banana popsicles. However, I'm also thinking that the slightest touch to my back right now would make me cringe in pain. I even wish I could just hover in the warmth between the comforter and the mattress.

So sleep is not currently an option.

I tried.

I turned off the lights and the television. I turned on my sound machine. I set my alarm. I took my nightly allergy medicine. (Not in that order, of course...)

But to no avail...

A stream of thoughts kept running through my head. (Sidenote of praise: Something is wrong with my body, but my head feels fairly clear. Not sure what that means, but I'll take it...)

So now, in the inbetween, as I wait for the most recent dose of Tylenol to cool the fever and numb the sensitivity, I will blog...

1) My first, least-substantial thought is that Honduras wreaks a little bit of havoc on my health. In the past few years, I have not gotten sick. In my (almost) eight months here, I'm pretty sure I have been a bit miserable due to sickness on at least three separate occasions. I hope I'm healthier next year.

2) I want to come home. I think sickness gives us all the liberty to sink into a short pity-party, and I'm going to take this chance. I try not to think thoughts or write or speak words like this very often, but I'll blame my lack of wisdom and censorship on the possible fever. (And then I may delete this post or this point in the morning.)
Yes, I like it here. Yes, I want to finish what I've started. Yes, I love most, if not all, of my students. Yes, I think Honduras has some crazy magnetic charm that cannot be explained. And yet it's like I wish I could be in two places at once.
I miss my family. I miss the comforts of American civilization. We truly do live in an incredibly blessed and well-organized country. I miss familiarity. I miss independence. I miss perceived safety. I miss predictablilty and self-sufficiency. I miss my friends and their kids like crazy. I miss my own bed. I miss the availability of options. I miss my church. I miss my support system. (Okay, enough of that because now I'm crying...)

3) Just two and a half more months. In some ways I hope they pass by quickly, and yet I know I can never get them back. In two and a half short months, my year in Honduras will be over. I will no longer have the same opportunities to develop these friendships, invest in these students, step outside of my comfort zone, or rely on my God in quite the same way...

4) Today is Good Friday, and yet I am numb. It just hit me tonight that my faith is feeling routine. It's not absent. I'm not sure it's possible for it to be absent in this environment. However, with teaching at a Christian school, attending (almost) daily devotions, participating in the Radical Experiment with Brook Hills, and (irregularly) attending Impacto Church, my faith feels like something I do.
In some ways, I think that's right. Our relationships with Christ should be all-the-time, everyday type things. He is omnipresent and should therefore invade every facet of our days. It shouldn't just be something we do in a church building on Sundays.
However, it should also be alive and growing and passionate and something felt deeply.
I'm a lot like my dad. We tend to be somewhat logical, reasonable, and even cynical. Sometimes this is a great thing. Sometimes it infuriates me.
Like now.
Like when I want to feel something besides this physical achiness with every fiber of my being.

5) It's hard to be a foreign missionary. I know that is nothing new, but it is hitting me in new ways. It is hard to be removed from worship in your own language. It is hard to pour out and to stay filled.
It is SO important to pray for missionaries all over the world. My situation is easy in comparison to so many. They need to be lifted up to our Heavenly Father. They need His refreshing presence and the encouragement of His comfort. Don't get too busy. Don't forget. Fight for them on your knees, even if you don't know their names or stories.

6) Perhaps this routine and numbness is due to the struggles that I have faced this year. Maybe it's been all I could do to hang on for the ride. I don't want Satan to defeat me like that.

7) Maybe this has some cause-and-effect relationship for my lacking direction for the future. It's possible that God is waiting to show me the next steps because he wants me to plant my feet into these. It's also possible that I'm not listening to His voice as clearly as in the past.
Last year was revolutionary for me. I learned so much about the need for the Gospel in all nations. I began to find that satisfaction is not found in the American Dream or in the accumulation of materials. I felt called for months and actively sought that calling.
I guess that it can't always be like that.
I heard or read somewhere recently that Mother Theresa had a radical encounter with God when He directed her to ministry to the poor in Calcutta. I also heard that she never really felt like she encountered Him in the same way again for the rest of her ministry and her life - and yet she knew He was real and continued to seek Him until the very end. Maybe it's like that. Maybe He doesn't always lead us with pillars of cloud and fire. Maybe the faith comes in following even when you don't see Him.

8) Thoughts from last night's possible fever: How would our lives be different if we really believed that God is always with us? Would we then teach our children a different faith? Would we show them that you don't just have to encounter our Heavenly Father in prayers before meals and before bed? Would we impress upon them that He is with us as we drive down the interstate or play little league at the ballpark or take tests in school or stop for Happy Meals at Mcdonald's? How would that change their faith as children and as adults?

9) Now I feel hot. I think the Tylenol has kicked in. And I feel hungry. But I know my stomach lies.

10) I can't end on an odd number. Goodnight blog world.