The closer I come to leaving India the less I can manage to write. This is partially because so many thoughts are churning inside of me I never know where to start writing and partially because I’m spending time with so many people my writing is slipping to the back burner. But for two more weeks I think it can wait. I suspect there are some things I won’t be able to understand or write about until after I gain a bit of distance and look back at the whole picture (or as much of the picture my finite mind can wrap its neuronic tendrils about). So I guess I’m looking forward to bringing India home with me to process and fill my stories.
Nearly every day now I embrace tears, or at least nestle up to the edge of them. I cry because I know leaving India will be hard, because I don’t know how to say goodbye. But more often I cry because the goodness of God is a powerful force that overwhelms my heart. Either way, they are good tears. If leaving India breaks my heart, it means that perhaps I did something right, that my heart found something beautiful. Falling in love always invites the factor of pain, but love is always worth pain. No matter how much my heart may ache when I board that plane in two weeks, I will never look back on this time with regret. I will stand in awe that God chose to give me this season, that he allowed India to be my potter’s wheel and his hands to do the shaping.