It’s been a long week. It’s been a long two years, if I’m honest. We lost a new roaster and a trailer full of other coffee equipment in October 2013 and we have been fighting a court case for the return of these items since then. In May we were informed that we had won the legal battle and in a few months would be able to go to the border where the items were confiscated and have them returned to us. On Tuesday my husband traveled to the town which holds the nightmares from two years ago and with anxiety and excitement faced them head on.
After all the paperwork was presented with copies for every desk and signatures from every pertinent official, Ben was informed that those items were sent to auction sometime last year. The truck and trailer were there and available but they were empty. It seems the nightmare is not over.
I will be the first to say that there has already come so much good from this experience. Ben and I are closer and have learned how to support and help hold one another through difficult times. We have learned how to look beyond the temporal things and value those things which are truly important such as family, friends, quality of life, and life experiences. We have learned to love beans and rice and cheap wine. We have learned what a dark night is. We have felt poor in spirit and broken. Even these things are gifts, though so much harder to accept.
I have known the presence of a loving God carrying me when I was collapsing. I have heard clearly the whisper of his voice correcting me, directing me, blessing me. I have come to appreciate many words in scripture that before this held little meaning for me.
As the news of this newest development sinks in I find myself in a new place again. It is similar to places I have stopped off at on this journey over the last two years, but it is also distinct. I am fatigued and hopeless. I am stressed to the point of physical breakdown. I am emotionally spent, wrung out, and stretched thin. I am grace empty and stumbling. I am ashamed and proud. I am angry at God, man, circumstances, myself. All these I have experienced along this journey. Call them the valleys.
Only now am I coming so slowly to realize the greatest lesson of all: I do not really know the God I love. I do not fully trust that He is who He says he is and will do that which He says He will do. I cling to promises and remember past faithfulness but I cling because I hope they are true, not because I know them to be. I know Him to be with me always but I do not trust the way He will choose to interact with me along this journey.
This is a mountain to climb. It is a place to start from. It is not the broad place of rest that I had been praying for but after all the slipping and skidding that has brought me to this lonely valley I can rest my feet on this firm place. I want to know this God I love.