Yep, the borders are still closed…If you don’t want to read something weighty, spare yourself this post for the time being. ❤Guard your heart, if need be, because I intend to spill mine. ❤My prayer life during these times has had two settings:
- Flaming fervor!
- Fizzling failure….
Moments arise where scriptures ingrained in my memory explode, and I pour out my soul to the Lord with humility, surrender and the faith that is certain that mountains will move…and soon!
At other times, I get inside my head, I doubt my faith and question the ability and trustworthiness of the Eternal God.
My prayer life looks more like an unorganized, haphazard scramble for any scrap of hope that I might cling to, cut out….and paste into my sticker book of collected life events.
Ugh….I’ll give you three guesses where I am at as I type this. 💔
After an announcement that the American Samoa border would remain closed for another 30 days, I again rebooked my flight, added an additional flight to my calendar (just to cover my bases in case one was canceled) and Scott and I hatched yet another back-up plan.
It seemed that July 1st was to be the new magical date at last.
I booked a flight on both the 1st & the 2nd as my own little insurance policy, anticipating that the very first flight after months of suspension on this remote route could be in danger of unexpected cancelation.
Then…just days later it was announced that July flights would also be suspended. 💔
Once more, Hawaiian Airlines Customer Service personnel negotiated a rebooking, rolled voucher after voucher forward into the month of August…
Of course, by now, I am so accustomed to holding meaningless confirmation numbers, itinerary codes and seat assignments that the cordial words of the kind customer service agent were wasted on my spirit.
My shoulders sank.
The sands of time had expired on my Waikiki Condo.
I hopped a plane to OKC and I am currently spending some time with my daughter.
Decorating her new apartment, enjoying long walks with her beloved dog, and putting one foot in front of another through this foggy haze that has become my new normal.
Tears are close to the surface.
Never far away from escaping their thinly veiled mask of being fine.
I am not okay.
I hear Scott’s voice on the other end of the phone and I can no longer tell if it makes things easier or harder.
I read the island updates about the border reopening, the lack of concise planning, the wasted, wasted time and money, the confusing reports and I cannot decipher the good news from the bad.
I watch the endless news reports, hear the political speak, and read the parsing of misquoted quotes from every angle and one phrase plays on repeat in my head….
I just want to get home.
Do any one of these characters know that their decisions have an actual effect on my life and the lives of others?
Do any of these characters really understand that we are real people, experiencing real pain with hearts that bleed while they bicker and pose and bandy meaningless words?
Ugh, I am frustrated.
I feel pushed and pulled and stretched beyond capacity.
I ache physically and anguish mentally and each footfall gets me no closer nor further away from my destination.
I apologize for sending this heaviness out to you, but it must go somewhere and after traversing across the continent and the ocean in an endless loop, this tiny blog spot seems my sanctuary for the time being.
A space for the pain to land in script and materialize into a thing I can see with my eyes rather than an emotion, like vapor, which refuses to be caught.
Often I think of those ladies of old who made honest use of fainting couches and smelling salts. With wonder and a giggle I watch old movies scenes where some event or another is sure to spur on a fainting spell that overtakes a feminine hero and praise be! a couch, a vile of reviving potion and a feather fan are at the ready so our heroine can press forth to the next scene!
But I am not giggling now. I am finding the prospect quite practical, when faced with my endless daily regimen of emotions. A couch at the ready for me to fall into…a place to land when breath is short and the heat flushes to my face….
Truth again.
I am not okay.
I thought I had faced these emotions to their fullest, but it seems that there are levels even lower than where I had previously wallowed.
I am in the pit and I know only one thing….I cannot stay down here for long.
The air is foul and the darkness is clever.
Clever enough to know not to startle those who wander in.
Clever enough to understand that it must sing soft and sweet to lull its prey into lingering.
I am actively naming my fears and frustration.
I am calling to the Lord in the waking hours. He does not slumber, so I trust each morning that much work has been done and details beyond my line of sight have been carefully handled.
This will not endure forever.
There is a plan of universal, eternal proportion playing out behind, beside and in advance of me. And so we press forward in anticipation. Finding small, intimate blessings orchestrated just for Scott & I.
So personal.
So delicate.
So comforting.
And through the pain and uncertain days, the unseen reveals itself and we breathe.
Someday our feet will again rest upon the same continent.
Once more we will walk hand in hand through these beautiful pages of life.
Oh Faith Unseen uphold me!
Until we meet again…..
From My Island 
💔💔😞
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