Our Daily Breath

No, 'breath' is not a type-o, but the reality my life for the past month. 

When I was very little, I had severe asthma. I don't remember much of that time and as I grew, I seemed to grow out of it. I only every noticed it when I was sick with a cough; I would often see the shock on the faces of strangers who heard me coughing, expected to see a 70-year-old smoker, and were surprised to find an 8-year-old girl. 

Overall, not too bad. 

Except for, every once and a while, with the right mix of sickness, stress, and environment, I am reminded of my lungs' fragility. 

It started with a normal cold. Annoying, but nothing severe. 

Unfortunately, that lined up with the time when I was asked to cover extra classes for the other English teachers who were out for a variety of valid reasons over the course of a couple weeks. This left me with very little time for my own work and very little energy left at the end of each day. 

But I powered through... that is until the last day of that stretch, when my body was simply done. My kind and compassionate coworker looked into my eyes at lunch and said, "Please go home, I will take your last 2 classes." 

So I did. 

I slept the majority of the weekend and started fresh at school the following week.  

Except one weekend did not cancel out the exhaustion of overextending myself for so long. My cold got better, but my lungs did not. 

Reading aloud in class was then something I did from my chair, as standing and talking was too taxing. 

Crashing on the couch after school became the norm. 

I felt bad about the number of messages I was sending the nurse on our team, which she graciously considered and replied to every time. (Thanks Carol!) 

And in the middle of that, I had a meeting with the Executive Director of JKC (visiting the jungle for the week) as well as the Director and Academic Director of our school. As we were talking through how we were doing, I mentioned how overworked I had felt when I played a part in covering for the absences of the other English teachers and how I was still physically recovering from that weeks later. 

Their eyes turned to me in surprise and confusion. 

And then one of them asked me a question that still rings in my ears today: "Why didn't you ask for help?" 

Ooof. 

Many excuses come to my mind- I think a few came out of my mouth in that moment- but the more that question sat in my mind, the more I heard the voice of my Savior gently calling me to correction. 

Later, I was reading and came across this passage that really hit home for me:

"Sin, and the hurts of this world, have taught us to try to be enough for ourselves. To be independent emotionally, spiritually, and mentally. We live in a culture where being an individual is idolised above all else and the "self-made" woman or man is the mythical hero of many of our rags-to-riches stories. 

"But we were never made to be independent and self-sufficient. 'It's not good for man to be alone,' remember? In fact, the Scriptures call the vision for self-sufficiency 'pride,' the greatest inhibitor to our communion with God... 

"But what happens in our living is we build defense mechanisms to cope with our being hurt, rejected, left alone, or under threat by the lack of love in others. We individualise our souls as a survival mechanism. It's cold out here, the world isn't a place for raw vulnerability. Soft-hearted people get used. We're all afraid. 

"We convince ourselves that self-sufficiency is possible. That we can heal ourselves. That we're better off looking out for number one, not letting even God any closer. We assume that we're meant to be able to stand along and to never suffer the feelings of vulnerability that make us so deeply uncomfortable. But entering that space is precisely what communion is. 

"Our insufficiency is a gift meant to draw us back to the spousal love of God. We are only complete when in union with Him. Only our truest selves when we are our beloved selves." (Strahan Coleman, Thirsting) 

So perhaps this isn't really about the lack of help I felt was available to me, either in God's reach or in others. Perhaps this is more indicative of my heart posture toward reaching outside of myself for help. 

While I view my independence as a way to love and care for others around me, it is actually a slap in the face to God my Sustainer and the people He has put in my life to love and support me. Not to mention insulting to insinuate that the omnipotent Creator of the universe attending to me would somehow cause Him to tire or deplete His energy. 

Pride. 

A word that rears its ugly head once again. 

I once heard idolatry explained as something that you rely on so heavily that removing it causes you to fall over. I posit that idolatrous pride can be explained as standing and stubbornly refusing to sit while the Lord offers His abundant love and care as a place of rest and comfort.  

I admit sheepishly that this is not an entirely new idea for me, rather something the Lord has pointed out times before. 

Praise the Lord that He does not tire in lovingly correcting and disciplining His children.  

He stands, yet again, with His eyes scanning the horizon, arms open wide and prepared to embrace His wayward child the moment she stumbles into His view. 

"In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it... Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you: therefore He will rise up to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for Him. People of Zion, who live in Jerusalem, you will weep no more. How gracious He will be when you cry for help! As soon as He hears, He will answer you!" (Isaiah 30: 15b, 18-19) 

So, as I sit doing breathing treatments twice a day, I am given a pretty on-the-nose metaphor for how I should posture myself in front of the Lord: bringing myself to Him, enflamed lungs and all, to simply breathe in His presence. It is only by taking time daily to breathe Him in that I can, not only recover enough to continue on, but also heal what's broken inside me.

There are decisions I make to invite this healing, but no amount of sheer gumption is going to do it on my part.  

In repentance and rest... 

In quietness and trust... 

And that is enough. 

As I enter into the final trimester of the school year, and my last trimester here in Ecuador I ask for your prayers: 

• For my continued physical/spiritual recovery and discernment in making the wisest choices to allow for it. 

• For my heart as the feelings of both joy and heartbrokenness over impending goodbyes and hellos in July grow in intensity daily. 

• For His will to be done above all other else, in the hearts of students, staff, and our community. 

• Praise for a potential new teacher to replace me and prayers for her onboarding process! She's amazing and an answer to my prayers! 

• And praise for YOU, dear reader, for your diligence in walking this journey with me. I am always encouraged to think of the people who take time out of their lives to read my musings and pray over me. Thank you. 

I close this with a prayer forwarded to me by a faithful sister in Christ who regularly writes me emails full of Godly encouragement and prayer. (Thanks Lisa!) 

“May the God of Receptivity be with you, accepting you just as you are, holding your frailties and your strengths, your sinfulness and your sanctity in gentle hands. This God loves you in your limitations and in your gifts. May you learn to live in the tension between heaven and earth, to receive gently the both/and stories of all those with whom you journey. May the God of Receptivity bless you.” 

Bendiciones! -Katie