The end of a deep breath

I feel like this weekend was a giant sigh... a giant, "it is what it is" (hi, Mom).
We went to the lake and it was amazingly relaxing. I missed my kids and my cooking and my abuellas but I did enjoy the brief break. For the first time in a while, I felt God. It was really windy everywhere, these pounding gusts of wind filled with dust. I went for a walk in the morning for a couple of hours, just being, no agenda. And he was with me. Can I even explain that to you? If you know what I mean, then you simply do. He was with me. The wind blew in gusts and whipped my hair and he was there; the flowers pulsated color in the balmy morning sun and he was there; the water sparkled and whitecapped in the wind and he was there; the bus driver almost hit me and we had a good laugh and he was there; Jimmy got off the boat, my heart leapt into my chest, my prayer was answered and he was SO there! I sat and I stood and I walked and I almost danced because my God was with me... there is no place on earth I´d rather be.

And now I´m back in Antigua and back to work for a brief time. I missed my friends and my abuelitas. My life is a joy here.
Today at the hospital I talked to my friend Nidia at length. (My Espanol must be mejor because I understood the vast majority of what she said.) She starts explaining her life to me... she is 25 years old, she has been sick for 15 years, in a wheelchair. People pity her because she can´t walk. She wants a boyfriend but they say she´s only a friend... because she can´t walk. People say she isn´t beautiful because she can´t walk. She kept saying that over and over again: I can´t walk, so people feel sorry for me, men feel sorry for me, they don´t want to be my esposa. And it felt like the end of a long breath: a tightness in my chest, nothing to draw in, a moment of inactivity, as I sat there and watched her eyes fill with tears.
I feel like she gave me a precious gift of self disclosure and I didn´t know what to do with it... so I stared at my shoes.

I usually know what to do. I know who I am and what I want and why I´m here. But for some reason, I´ve been unglued lately. Perhaps I´m simply more honest. Perhaps I´m disillusioned. I´m not upset by this... just silenced. I´m just quiet.

I don´t have answers for Nidia. I don´t know why God allowed her illness (which I think is cerebral palsy) or made her undesirable to men. And I also don´t know, as I look at her, what it would be like to be a 2 5 year old with little hope for marriage and a family, when that is the desire of her heart. I have no idea what that feels like... that door maybe closed forever.

I cried with her.
I cried for her.
I cried because I don´t get it
And I never will
And even though that´s okay
It´s cry-worthy.
I don´t regret it...
Don´t regret not preaching
Or explaining theology of suffering
Or walking away feeling that she was better armed to cope with her condition... because maybe she´s not and maybe I don´t make a difference in her life... but what I can do is be with her, just like God was with me. I walked beside her down the squeaky tile floor and went to the tienda and gave her a cold Pepsi in Jesus´name and I was there. And for now at least, that´s the best I can do.

Exhale slowly.