My time in Haiti was a non-stop, painful exfoliation of the layers of sin and regret, which I had become so accustomed to wearing. The days were long, hot, and difficult. This was no cushy mission trip, we were roughing it with scarce resources, and spent most evenings surrounding one small light, reading from the Scriptures and telling stories. Despite my initial complaints, and nightly battles with the world’s largest moths, I eventually found myself sitting alone on moonlit mountaintops, in total silence, deeply mourning my demolished life. Those nights played out like a slideshow, and clicking past were scene after scene of the sordid wreckage and foul remains of a glittery mess that was more dung than gold, all of which had become the defining characteristics of my existence. I laid myself bare on those hilltops, and wept until exhaustion. I deserved no forgiveness, no mercy, no recompense for all the lost time and failed chances I’d been given. For most of my selfish life, the Lord has stood in front of me, arms wide open, patiently waiting to embrace me and remove all the hurt and the disappointment. The only cost to me? My pride. And now, as my tears fell on parched earth in a country ravaged by war and disease, I was too ashamed and disgusted by all the blackness I felt still clinging to my skin like ink. I raised my arms and surrendered all; I had no fight or pride left in me. “Lord … save me.” And I imagine singing broke out in the heavenly places. “The Lord your God in your midst, the Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you in His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.” Zephaniah 3:17 Every day in Haiti, after finishing up our summer program with the kids, I would wander over to the medical clinic, where two young American nurses were volunteering their time, working tirelessly, sometimes around the clock, overwhelmed by their patient load. Immediately I was given work to do, which included helping during surgery, delivering babies, and holding hands of the dying. I never felt more alive or more certain of my life’s path than during those harrowing hours in the clinic. I returned to Boston clinging to the Lord for direction and guidance, and found myself enrolled and accepted, not three weeks later, into one of Boston’s most competitive and challenging nursing programs, a miracle beyond miracles. That was two and a half years ago, and just recently, I graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Nursing. It was one of the proudest, most surreal days of my life. As I walked across that stage to accept my pin, I thought “The Lord totally wrecked my life, and gave me more than I can could ever ask or think.” My career as a nurse is barely beginning, as I am studying tirelessly for the national licensure exam and waiting patiently to hear from the Lord which hospital He would use me most, for His good pleasure. It is a nerve-wracking time, wrought with financial instability and countless questionings—with seemingly no immediate answers, but I will wait. Temptations arise and distractions ensue, but nothing will ever compare to living under the shadow of the Lord’s wings. The life I held so dear was wrecked beyond recognition. Dear readers, I pray you are privileged to see the Lord wreck your life. “Do not fear, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.” —Luke 12:32
A Wrecked Life, Part 3
Monday, March 7, 2011
Virtue*: A Wrecked Life, Part 3
by Virtue for Women on Thursday, March 3, 2011 at 9:00am
