Where I Am

You Are Here

It’s been hard to get back to blogging.

I have ideas that I want to write about. There have been some stories that have grabbed my attention and I’d like to share about them. Lots of words brewing.

But it’s hard to get them out. After my experience last week, it’s difficult to know how to get back into writing.

I have lots of memories of Moldova. I eat a little cutie clementine and it reminds me of sitting in the youth center, digging through one of Idelette’s bags of fresh fruit and pulling out the same. I pull on my black boots and think about Makeda wrapped head to toe in her winter garb. Yesterday we sang Revelation Song in church and it took me to a third floor room, with Jenni leading the same song the previous week with the Moldavian team singing in Russian with us.

And with every thought of Moldova, I think about the women that I met. Women who were so much more than victims. Women who were funny and brave and open and beautiful and smart and capable. They had the opportunity to be more than victims because of the people who are there every single day. The men and women who work for Beginning of Life love on these girls in real, practical ways. I cannot even begin to express my amazement at what they do there. One of the women compared it to a sickness from which she never wanted to be healed.

They help because they are there.

They might see the things that they do as small. After all, they just help girls learn to sew. They help girls learn to cook and clean. They give hugs. They sit and listen to their stories.

None of these are big, dramatic things. But they’re done every day, and the results of that daily interaction are dramatic.

And that realization is helping me to restart.

I am here.

Here in my home, where I spend every day with five people who I love more than just about anything.

Here in my community, where I can volunteer to work with folks who have many of the same needs that I saw in Moldova.

Here at my computer, writing out stories that help people feel less alone in their journey through this life.

Not big, dramatic things. But I am here, and this is what I can do.

  • pastordt

    Amen, Alise. Beautifully put.