December 12, 2002 Honiara
I feel that the coup in 2000 cut me loose from this place. Like the surgeon’s scalpel, one quick slash and the umbilical cord was severed. Healing, however, has not been so swift. That took a long time, with the wound flaring up, at times festering and putrid. Just like an open sore, more dirt and grime got in—things that might not have been so harmful to someone whole and well bothered me a lot.
And there were other wounds—losses and body blows to be faced at the same time. Since Libby’s first seizure in 1998, I’ve been in a time of seismic life-shifting. There have been rests between the tremors, but it’s as if I somehow moved into a land of volcanoes, molten lava, earthquakes, and tsunami. I’ve been on hands and knees at times, crawling toward solid ground—only to have that give way also.
All my security—my SITAG, my Solomons, my friends, my family—everything shaken to the core. But what I’ve found, when everything else gives way, is Immanuel. When there is no one to rely on, and nothing to cling to, God is with me.
I’m finding that there is a certain freedom in this place of aloneness with God. In the past I’ve been so concerned about the assessment of others, trying to be the right kind of friend, wife, mother, missionary, trying to fit the role.
I recently had the vision of myself, leaning so hard on those things for my sense of myself, to know I was doing the right thing and was worthy of being loved. But each of those pillars that gave me so much comfort, such security—I finally saw those as the bars of a cage.
And finally I could see that God had removed them, one by one. He's set me free for freedom. And not to be tangled up with any bonds, ever again.
He delights in me, and he longs to see me fly free.
God, you’re the sky
I long to fly
Free in you
Being what you made me