A Full Heart

In the Miskito language, the word for love and pain are the same, latwan.  It may be a strange concept to think of these two words meaning exactly the same thing, but somehow it fits my feelings exactly.

It was summer 2006 when I first met Mama Tara.  Many people I knew had already been touched by her.  She certainly deserves admiration, a woman in her eighties single-handedly caring for over twenty orphans.  But something unexpected happened that summer.  My heart was sown to hers with a beautiful crimson thread... latwan.  My heart would, from that summer on, be tied to Mama Tara and the Miskito people.

I remember standing in my hotel room that night.  I held my hands high and, with everything within me, sang the song God had put in my heart before that trip...  

                 Here am I, Lord.  Is it I, Lord?
                 I have heard You calling in the night.
                 I will go, Lord.  If you lead me,
                 I will hold Your people in my heart.

My heart was different after that trip; an ache was ever present.  When I'd see the sun or moon glisten on a body of water, I'd long for la Moskitia.  When I'd sip my coffee in the morning, I hurt to hear Mama's voice.  When I'd watch children playing and listen to them laughing, I'd ache to see little Miskito faces and hear their funny chants.

Since then, I have gone to the orphanage several times and felt a strong calling there.  But, I also knew it wasn't time.  I knew I was where God wanted me. So, I have lived with latwan, the pain of love, in my heart.  Knowing I was in the will of God, I gave all my heart to that calling.  That crimson thread always tugged.

In October, I was afforded the opportunity to travel with three of the Mama Tara board members to Puerto Lempira.  Our trip had a defined purpose.  I thought I would be somewhat safe from the thread's pull.  I thought it would relieve the tension and I would happily return to my call of Grandma and Ladybugs (my pre-K class) since it wasn't yet time.

I was wrong.  The pull was not relieved. As the trip progressed, it was hard to ignore the strong hand behind the pull of that crimson thread.  The time has come for me to move to La Moskitia.

I expected such news to overjoy me.  I wanted to be elated. However, the tides of latwan ebb and flow. The pain I had felt because I could not yet be at the orphanage was quickly replaced with the hurt of leaving the people I have loved and served these past five years.

I was used to wiping the tears I once cried when watching that red dirt runway and mint green building grow smaller from a blurred old airplane window.  I never expected to feel sad when I wouldn't have to do that again.  Latwan is a miskito word.  I made sense to me to feel pain in love in relation to La Moskitia.  

In English, love is just love.  I pondered why I felt so much pain when contemplating leaving my family, friends, and the calling I have followed.  The answer is summed up in the picture above- my heart.  It seemed divided between America and La Moskitia. But it was not divided at all.  I have simply loved with a full heart.

 "The Lord has appeared of old to me, saying: "Yes I have loved you with and everlasting love; Therefore with lovingkindess I have drawn you.""   Jeremiah 31:3 NKJV