Sometimes
it's so much easier to struggle in silence. Sometimes it's so much
easier to paste on a smile when people ask how you've been, where
you've been, and find a quick and cliché
answer. I'm a private person anyways.... I don't like talking about
myself. Years of hurt have taught me that most people don't really
care
how you are... they just want to satisfy their own sense of
curiosity. So when I hurt, I do it alone.
But
I will say, this past year has been wonderful... and at times very,
very difficult.
This
blog is called The Path of the Carpenter for a reason... I started it
to chronicle my journey as I follow the Carpenter of Nazareth, the
man named Jesus the Christ.
But
when self-proclaimed followers of the Carpenter leave you without a
support system, without an identity, without a word in your defense,
with your foundation crumbling... sometimes things start to look a
lot different, and you begin to wonder if anything you ever believed
was true.
When
your head and heart go to war with each other, you start to feel like
you're slowly going insane... like you are two separate people trying
to co-exist in the same body. Your head believes in the
Truth-That-Is, but your heart wants to run... as far and as fast as
you can. Numb the pain. Scream for help silently. Rage at the world
in anger, behind the smile on your face.
I
have come as close to losing my faith as I ever have.
I'm
being honest with you.
Not
because I ever stopped believing in the Truth, but because I was
driven from the place where I first learned that Truth. I've somehow
made more enemies than I have friends, because I learned another
"truth"... that Money, and Power, and Pride, are the gods
of this world and some people will sacrifice anything for their
gods... even their fellow believers.
Many
times I feel like I've been flayed alive and laid on the altar.
And
sometimes I've wondered what, exactly, I've been trying to hold on
to.
And
in the darkness, 8 little lights shining from the other side of the
world, reminding me that I'm holding on to Hope.
 |
| Uwimana Hannah Photography |
It's
my daughter Isimbi reminding me that Jesus knows my name.
It's
my brother Mbula asking me to pray for him to keep believing.
It's
my daughter Ada telling me that my letters give her hope for a better
a life.
It's
my sister Shakira telling me that she loves me for ever and ever.
Somewhere
in the world, there is Love. There is Peace. And there is Hope. For
my kids in poverty, yes... but if only they could know, that the
little physical provision I am able to give them, is nothing compared
to the spiritual strength they give me.
Maybe
you have a hard time imagining my kids, especially my tiny munchkin
Miriam, forcing
anyone
to do anything, but yes... my kids have forced
me
to hold on to my faith. They have forced
me
to refuse to give up. They have forced
me
to see that there is still good in this world. And they have forced
me
to remain in contact with Hope Himself.... the Carpenter. Because of
them, I have a reason to never give up. Because of them, I pray, and
read, and study, even when I don't want to.
Because
of my kids, I'm still holding on to Hope... and I
don't plan on letting go.
