• January 7, 2018
en

Resting in the Arms of Love

by Anna O., on mis­sion in Peru

     I always know that Roxana is at our door by her laugh. Roxana is both deaf and mute, but she has her own lan­guage which I am slowly uncov­ering. Sometimes she will whisper in my ear or close the door when she doesn’t want anyone to hear what she is “saying.” Sometimes I feel impa­tient with her con­stant pres­ence and walk to the door with a bit of dread when I hear her laugh, but I am slowly learning that Roxana has a lot to teach me and that maybe our sit­u­a­tions aren’t all that dif­ferent:
My first month here, I felt over­whelmed by all of the new names, cul­ture, lan­guage, com­mu­nity, and rhythm of life. I wanted someone who knew me. Although having a strong foun­da­tion in Spanish has been an incred­ible blessing, I still often felt at a loss for being able to express myself. When I think of Roxana, I can’t even begin to imagine the world she lives in. A world of silence, with few people who have the time or the patience to listen to her “talk,” trapped within her­self. Yet she lives with a laugh and love for us. She has an extreme atten­tive­ness to her envi­ron­ment and the needs of those around her.
In my lone­li­ness, I real­ized that Jesus is always with me and knows me better than anyone could. And He loves me. Each day is an oppor­tu­nity to rest in this uncon­di­tional love and allow Gods love to flow through me and engulf our friends. This love inspires me to want to see Roxana; to love her in a way that is out­side of words and not depen­dent on any­thing she does, but simply for her exis­tence. It also chal­lenges me to receive God’s love through Roxana, to accept her hugs and help as a con­crete expe­ri­ence of God’s love for me.


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