kirabo (gift)

there is something about an african sky. 
i went out again tonight walking at twilight

it was like being inside a poem.  a few stars out, a different color sky in each direction, the giant trees with their wide covering leaves, making patterns of negative space as beautiful as the light between.

kirabo means 'gift' in luganda.  one of our advent reading today was about gifts, how sometimes it can be easier to give then to receive, how receiving requires humility.  i see this, but i love both parts.  i love to give gifts, but i also love to receive them.  there was one part of the reading that stuck with me.

"This is often the way God loves us: with gifts we thought we didn't need, which transform us into people we don't necessarily want to be."

the first think that came to mind was those gifts in life that are associated with suffering.  i thought about zoe.  she's such a gift- in all the good ways a child is.  but there are parts of her life, her struggles, her disabilities that i definitely didn't think i needed nor did i want.  and i became a member of a group i didn't really want to belong to. i never planned to be in.  same with our early years with jude.  i didn't need the 'gift' of being told my pregnancy would likely result in a severely handicapped child.  i didn't need the 'gift' of hearing over the phone that he had a bad brain tumor.  i didn't think i'd belong to that group of parents who make regular visits to specialty doctors, and have thick medical files on their kids.

but those were gifts.   the kids, of course- that part is obvious.
but the suffering parts- those too, were gifts.

it's strange to think of God expressing love by allowing us to experience suffering, but as a parent, i get this.  even in little silly ways. take immunizations.  my child looks at me with horror as i'm holding him down and the nurse is sticking him four times.  but it's because i love him, that i not just allow it, but drive him there, pay for it, and then hold him down, to receive these pains that will prevent worse pain in the future.  but my small child doesn't understand this.  he just see's mommy allowing this awful nurse to inflict pain on him.
we see through the glass dimly, we see to the end of the street, but not around the corner.

some of our gifts appeared wrapped in old bags, gifts disguised,  sheep in wolves clothes.  gifts that on first view we'd return to sender.  but.  they were gifts that we did need to become who we were meant to be.  gifts that brought real transformation. 

i would change the end of that quote.  i would change it to "with gifts we thought we didn't need, which transform us into people we didn't necessarily want to be." 

because this is who i want to be.  i'm better for having gone there.  better for experiencing these gifts even though i've shed many tears because of them. because i want to know the things i've learned from going through these times. because i understand life differently now, i value people differently now, i can relate to people who i never would have understood before, i've felt God differently.

“You do not have to sit outside in the dark. If, however, you want to look at the stars, you will find that darkness is necessary. But the stars neither require nor demand it.”  annie dillard.