Ecuador 2006 - Part V

Walking out of the airport and being, again, in South America, I was overcome with an incomprehensible sense of…rightness. I didn’t understand it at the time, and I don’t now. It just felt right to be there, back in South America. It felt like everything in my life was right; it may not all have been good at that moment, but being there was right and was, in no way, running away from my problems at home. I’m still not really sure why, but I started to cry then. And I pretty much didn’t stop until we got to the guesthouse.

Because I didn’t really understand why I was crying, I spent most of that bus ride either with my head down or looking out the window in an effort to not make eye contact with anyone. While trying to calm myself, I had my head on my bag, which was again bringing me security while sitting in my lap. Ava, who was sitting on the seat next to me, put her hand on my shoulder. When I looked up, she said, with tears in her eyes, “I am so glad I’m here for your first time.” We both cried then. Perhaps that touched me in such a way because it resonated so deeply with how I felt about the fact that she was sitting next to me on a bus in Ecuador. Perhaps it was simply because it meant enough to her to show me the place she loved to bring her to tears. I don’t know, but that simple statement reached my heart.

When we arrived at the HCJB guesthouse a short time later, we met as a team in one of the common areas and Dan Koenig, the missionary we were there to work with, went over the logistics of the week and a tentative schedule. The operative word in his statement was ‘tentative.’ Danny had been telling us for weeks that in order for this trip to be successful, we needed to remain fluid and flexible. Dan, in words pleasant but definitive, reiterated everything Danny had said leading up to the trip.

One of the reasons it was so easy for me to agree to be a part of this trip to Ecuador was the high regard in which Dan and Jen Koenig are held by the Bentleys. This was not, however, the first time I had met the Koenig’s. Our first meeting was, for me, so traumatic that I debated whether or not I should remind them of the encounter. Allow me to explain. Last summer, a family came into the store by which I am employed. At the time, I was sitting on the floor, not far from the registers, putting together a display and from where I was sitting, I couldn’t quite see the face of the lady who was paying for her purchases. I could, however, hear the conversation between her and my coworker. The lady was saying how they are missionaries in Ecuador with HCJB. So, I stuck my head around the display and said, “Oh, do you know the Koenig’s?” Her reply was equal parts polite and nervous: “Uh, we are the Koenig’s.” My only defense was to blurt out, “I go to Grace. I know the Bentleys,” and to retreat behind my display. Yeah, I was pretty much humiliated.

I think it is a testament, though, to the acceptance and love that exude from both Dan and Jen that by the time we had unloaded the bus as the guesthouse, I was comfortable enough to admit to Jen that I was “that girl from the Christian bookstore.”

After being given Dan’s announcements and being told where to sleep, we settled into our rooms and met again, this time in the downstairs common area. We were seated, mostly, at small round tables with just enough room to be cozy and build a little team-togetherness but not so much so that we felt our personal space violated. Nate brought his guitar and began to play some worship songs.

Now, there are times when the Lord gives us a “moment” where He is more evident and more real to us than the sum of the rest of the moments of our lives. I had one of those moments that night.

Nate began to play that song by Third Day, “You Are So Good to Me.” We got to the part where the lyrics are

“You are so good to me / You heal my broken heart,”

And, maybe for the first time, I really contemplated those words. It was, at least, the first time I had considered those words in the context of the last year of my life. Fifteen months before that night, in March of 2005, I had pretty much given up any hope of what I would consider success in my life. It was too hard to fight for who I wanted to be and, although it hurt and felt as though I was being untrue to myself, it was so much easier to give in and make my greatest attempts to be who my parents thought I should be.

That April, I stood on the top of a mountain in Peru looking out over one of the deepest gorges in the world. On that mountaintop it was as though the Lord was saying to my heart

“Do you really want this? If you do, wait. Wait and let Me work in your life.”

In May, my world blew up. He tore my life apart and took away almost everything, almost everything, that was dear to me. He broke me. Three months later, one night in August, I found myself facedown on the floor, weeping, empty and broken and, for the first time, ready to learn how to forgive. That night began a period of time where the Lord rebuilt me and made me into a new person. And that first night in Ecuador, in that moment, I found myself again facedown and weeping. This time they were tears of joy and peace. That night, in that moment, He closed the circle. For the first time I really felt like all the hurt and ugliness of the past year, was over. For the first time I felt free.

That night, in that moment, a new phase of my life began. This was, and is, my time…my time to seek the Lord and find Him waiting and to walk in confidence and faith.

I wasn’t expecting my deeply emotional, encounter-with-the-living-God moment to occur so early in the trip. And I couldn’t wait to see what else He would do over the next week.