Every day is filled with incredible stress, guilt, and fear. My husband nearly died from an unidentified illness, and I fear for the health and safety of my kids almost all day, every day. It’s easier just to stay on the compound with the other American missionaries, but that’s not why I came. God, help me get through this.
The women here are so strong and persevering. They work incredibly hard everyday, many with absent husbands, caring for children in addition to working a job if they can find one. Most prepare their food over a fire and carry water some distance from a pump. Their lives seem like constant struggle and pain to me, and yet they sing and smile and are so beautiful in their laughter.
I am a pampered child who cannot handle much stress, apparently. Many days I wonder what it would be like to have a nervous breakdown. How can you tell if you’re about to lose it? What are the signs? I can’t talk to anyone about this because they’re all stressed too, and I’m supposed to be a hero to the people back home. What a crock! I’m a wreck. The kids are the only ones who seem to be okay, most of the time. I try to hold it together for them. I keep my inner turmoil hidden. God does help me and carry me through, but I wonder if He will keep us safe. I wonder if all 5 of us will make it back home to Kentucky.
I know that God is good. I see it in nature and in the beauty of children and in the Mozambican people all around me. How can the creator of such beauty not be good? But I also see the suffering around me. Children are dying from cholera all around. I saw my 20 year old brother suffer and die of cancer within a few months. My dad died at age 63, just before retirement, as a result of a car wreck. Life is suffering, beauty, and glory, all mixed together. Sometimes I could hide from that back in Kentucky, but not here in Mozambique. Extreme poverty slaps you in the face as children beg for bread every day; but at night, the stars crowding the sky seem so close you could throw a rock at one and send it crashing down to earth. This beauty is also undeniable.
Looking back in 2019, I did survive 3 years in Mozambique, but one of my teammates did not. He was shot and killed by armed robbers that entered our compound one night. I did not feel free to write about how difficult it was for me back then, but now I am free of the pedestal and the expectations that were put upon me at the time. I don’t know why I am safely back home, and my friend is not. God allows suffering, and He is is good. These truths I have to hold in tension, and probably always will. I hope I can live in such a way as to celebrate the beauty and goodness, and at the same time, maybe I can alleviate a little of the suffering, or at least, stand in solidarity with those who suffer, as Jesus does.