When I am Stronger

I never can tell the age of a Filipina. One could be 45 years old, and I would think she is 25, and really, I look older at 23.

But I always think she is older than she really is. A hard life has a way of inscribing itself in the lines of the face. And her eyes… they look at me, sometimes they trust me, sometimes they are unsure, but they are always far away. She will be in the middle of conversation when something triggers and the rest of her face will follow her eyes, lost in the memory.

She has been through more pain than I can ever imagine, resulting in a mind that is confused. Really, can anything be more terrifying than when the mind rebels? She lay in the bed beside me, while I kept watch for her, reassuring again and again she is safe, no one is coming for her, she will be ok.

White walls, brown floor, crowded spaces, and I am pretty sure at times that I am a snap away from landing on the bed beside her. So afraid… she just wants to be safe, to rest, to go home.

And this little one… the one who has been my charge for the past two weeks. Her face is a story of pain and fear, and sickness she doesn’t understand that has taken control. I am trying to find the balance… how far do I push and when do I let go? Sometimes I expect and demand too much of her, and then she giggles, reminding me she is just a child. She made us promise to take her to the mall when she is stronger.

And that is the phrase, the promise she keeps repeating to herself…

“When I am stronger…”

Funny how she speaks aloud what my heart can barely whisper.

The pain comes again. She cries and I rub her back, trying to understand, trying to fix this. More calcium, stop the calcium, less potassium, bananas, bananas, bananas. We research and test and wait for results and research some more.

You can only imagine the picture when solving a puzzle with missing pieces.

She cried out for her mother when the pain became overwhelming. Funny, me too.

I have to detach in order to be good at this. I have to leave emotion at the door so I can make good decisions. I can’t be the one to fall apart when crisis comes. I must be calm.

But it’s hard, hard to separate my heart from my work. And the weight of those decisions is revealed on my face by dark circles and tired eyes.

Because really, you can’t help but bond with the little one who snuggles beside you as you tuck her in, the one you carry to the bathroom when her legs are too weak to move. But how do you love and give without being destroyed yourself? I know Jesus did that… gave until it killed Him. But He is God, and I am not. I don’t know how to do this.

Sweet little one, please hold on. 

Please. 

I look in the mirror at this face… 23 years old with its lines and curves, already witnessed more than I could ever have imagined. And I can’t help but wonder how I will do it. I don’t know what I am doing.

And I whisper to myself “When I am stronger… when I am stronger…”

But therein lies my problem, a problem that has become the struggle of my lifetime. The struggle to do everything myself… to be enough on my own, the rescuer, the fixer, the one with all the answers.

I can’t do it. Dear God, I just can’t.

And I was never meant to. I was never meant to be superwoman, Mother Theresa, my director… I was created to be me.

In this moment, I am to be Jordan, 23 years old, discovering the talents, the gifts, the weaknesses He has given me. Remembering this is a journey, a process.

And I am so grateful… that in my weakness, He is strength. That every failure He uses to teach me and soften my heart into something gentler, open. 

Today it means I pray over her before I go to school. I sit and absorb the lectures that will make me better at what I will do. I dream of the future and take this one day at a time.

One day at a time. When I am stronger… No, when I let Him become stronger in me.

So the tired eyes will reflect His joy.

The lines on the face will reflect a life of hard decisions, but decision never made alone. Lines from years of saying yes, and always choosing joy in the midst of the pain.

You can only offer freedom to someone if you are being continually set free yourself. If I had this journey down perfectly, then I would never be able to offer anything.

But all I have are these broken pieces scattered about, forming the mess of who I am. And He takes them, refines them, and molds something beautiful.

For these precious pieces in my life, I pray they find what I am discovering… healing, wholeness, restoration.

Strength. In Him.