Not What I Want, or What I Need Yet, but a Merciful Portion

After a long day of hospital visits and driving I was tired, frustrated, and discouraged. After reaching home, when everyone else had already gone inside and just as I finished the checklist of things to do before getting out of the van myself, I heard someone say “Justin” me from outside. The tone of voice seemed warm and whoever it was sounded excited to see me, and while I only heard it faintly I assumed it was quiet because I was still in the van. I looked up from my checklist with a spike of energy and anticipation, but saw no one there. I looked in either direction, moved in my seat in the hopes of seeing someone obstructed by a pillar, no one. Then, almost desperately, I moved again the other way in case when I moved to see around the pillar the first time they had come into view from the other perspective. There was no one. I realized then there is no one here that is excited to see me, who would call out my name in that tone. I sank back into my worn and beaten seat, defeated. The unsatisfied anticipation and spike of energy coupled with this realization only created more momentum to drain me even further. I understand the conscious sometimes supplies what the subconscious really wants in times of extreme stress; it must have been a random memory firing or my senses failing because of how tired I was. Just the same, I would rather have had nothing than to have this.

I realized that while someone calling my name was common back home it hadn’t happened since I've been here in Israel; it’s another one of those things I didn’t realize I missed until I noticed it was gone. Having someone be excited to see me is something that is easy to distinguish between genuine and rehearsed or forced, probably for this reason it’s one of few things that can penetrate what I admit can be a cynical defensiveness. Feeling valued by others and in this sense feeling pure love is something I have missed dearly in person.

I spent the next few hours alone in my room (as alone as I can be in a bedroom that doubles as a hallway), confronting the truth of this realization. Digging out the root of its past influence and anticipating its future discomfort I concluded there was little hope for a remedy.

I went upstairs, probably frustrated at myself for feeling self pity, exchanging one defeat for another, when I walked through the upstairs dining room. Halo (nine years old), one of our Iraqi children came into the room and, upon seeing me, smiled and called out, “Justin!” At this Alaa (six years old) trotted in and Omed (twelve years old) as well, excited to see me and eager to be involved with whatever I had come up there to do. We spent the next half an hour playing with a balloon, so easy to impress, they marveled at my strength as I knocked the balloon all the way to the ceiling. While children are perhaps not who I had in mind when I was so sunken over this, the Lord knows what I need, and he has supplied all my needs, perhaps in this circumstance better than what my own heart wills.