The Beautiful Ache

We read a book about two years ago in Ladies' Study called The Beautiful Ache. I've been reflecting on that idea this week a lot because I've been aching. I ache to be in Laos and I ache to stay with my family, friends and all that was once familiar. I even ache to avoid the ache. 

I was rereading the prologue this morning on Amazon (because I left my copy in Laos), and the author asks this question when talking about what she has dubbed "The Beautiful Ache":

What if you denied the urge to fill the crevice or crater-like space it makes with activity or noise or food or drink and simply sat with it awhile?

Wow, convicting. When I ache, the first thing I want to do is forget about it. Fill my schedule with activity, fill my heart with anything that will dull the ache, and usually (when I'm not repulsed by food like now!) I fill my belly with as much chocolate as it can hold (or as much as is available in Laos!). All in an effort to ignore that ache.

She continues:
Could you learn to love such wide-awake living? Could you joyfully taste heaven one exquisite morsel at a time without feeling the need to either push the smallish plate away or lick it clean, demanding more?... The beautiful ache points us beyond. It is not meant to be ignored. So when it comes - and it will - why not move in closer and ask the ache what true and terrible secret it knows and longs to tell?

I love that - the ache points us beyond. Like the words the Father spoke to me that first Sunday home when I was overcome with emotion - I am your home. The ache reminds me that neither here nor there is my true Home.

Here I cannot ignore the ache. And I know that's exactly what the Father wants. This morning as I sat with Jess at the breakfast table, it felt so good to have time together. But almost immediately this thought rushed into my mind: I don't want to get used to this because it won't last. The ache is there, even in the midst of life's small joys. 

Last week mom and I went to the beach with J, C and the triplets. As we walked out into the waves, the usually fearless Will fearfully clung to me. I thought how great of a picture that is of our relationship with the Father. When we're overwhelmed by the waves of life, and sometimes they can be strong and loud and rush over you when you least expect it, the Father wants us to cling to Him as He lifts us above the waves. Sometimes the waves hit us, but as long as we're in His arms they will never wash us away; He never lets go.

As I stood in the waves thinking about this, tears started rolling down my cheeks.Why? Because as Will clung to me, I felt my heart opening up, and I was overwhelmed at just how much I love him. And I didn't want to feel that love, that closeness because I remembered how my arms physically ached to hold the triplets last July when I left. But yet, it was a cherished moment, a sweet memory that I always want to keep with me.

I ache when I skype with my closest Lao friend and I see her struggle with doubts in this new life the Father has given her. I ache to be there, to walk the first steps of this new journey of Belief with her, knowing all the while the distance of an Ocean separates us.  But, I know my Father is in control (and that's so much better than any illusions I have of being in control!!!) and He has me here and her there for His perfect purpose and reason. It doesn't necessarily lessen the longing to be there, but He is teaching me when I ache to call out to Him, the only One who can fill that ache, both for my heart and hers.

Probably the hardest ache since I've been here is seeing the toll that my living overseas takes on my mom. Seeing her heart ache because I'm so far away, missing birthdays and holidays, Christmas morning and the birth of my nephew makes my heart ache.

The ache points us beyond. And isn't that why I've chosen to live overseas? Because there is a world beyond this one, and the Father has sheep in every country, in every people group, that need to hear the Good News that there is a Good Shepherd who is calling out their name.  Here am I. Send me. Why? Because I want to see Lao people rejoicing with the Father for all of eternity.

Yes, that's my deepest heart's cry.

But still, I ache. This ache, it cannot be ignored right now. Sure I've ignored it many times before, pushed it back, pushed it down; but the Father has me in a place now where He wants me to sit with it a while. To let Him strip me of all the substitutes I try to fill the craters of my heart with and just bring it all to Him and lay it at His feet.


"If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world." - C.S. Lewis