Thoughts from Mombasa — Madeline K Barry Fine Art

So I’ve been in Mombasa, Kenya now for a week and just found out I will be here for another full month.

|| If you’re looking for an explanation as to why the heck I’m in Kenya, not Belgium, (or the U.S for that matter) drop a comment with your email address and I’ll send you my latest email update. The whole thing doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I’m happy to share what I think is going on 😃 ||

I’m excited about this next month. I’m worried I might get sick of it, even more worried that I’ll get too attached to the people here, the lifestyle, the culture. My life, my stuff, and my heart are scattered all over this earth. Literally. My soul desperately wants to say hellos that won’t be goodbyes for some time. I thought I had begun this process when I moved into an apartment in Belgium, but God had a different idea for this season.

I’m longing for some understanding as to why this journey to Belgium has taken me across 33 U.S. states, 4 countries, to both hemispheres, and 2.5 years longer than I expected. I can’t express how much I love this journey. My mind feels like a gypsy, my body feels like a glorious wanderer, but my soul hurts. I’m spending time with all of my favourite people on this earth as I tread across it, but each time it ends in “see-you-laters” that feel like scabs being ripped off as they’re just starting to attach the wound beneath them. And yet, He is here. He is closer than I’ve ever felt Him, more attentive than I’ve ever known Him to be, and so so kind. He offers compassion to the parts of me I feel guilty for. I feel like a spoiled brat even as I pen these words, and immediately begin the self-condemnation process for the state of my emotions. "People would kill for this life, don’t be ungrateful, Maddie.”

And yet He knows the motives deep inside me. He knows I’m simultaneously exploding with thankfulness for adventure, and painfully desperate for a life with roots. He offers deep compassion, care, and kindness to these feelings of pain, even in the midst of the magnificent adventure.

It’s all real and it’s okay to be.

Slowly, the feelings of “what will they say if I tell them I’m hurting?” begin to fade and I’m left really only with love. I’ve heard about this healing process from people on this journey around me, but I never thought it could be this absolute. The more I accept these feelings that I don’t like, the more I invite Jesus into the lies I’ve been awakened to realize I’m believing, the more love I find. I never thought He could be this tender. I scold myself for my own shortcomings, distance myself from people around me to avoid being associated with theirs, all because I still believe I deserve to be punished for them. I condemn myself because I know He won’t… He’s too kind.

It must hurt His heart to have His children continue to chastise themselves when He died so that wouldn’t have to happen anymore.

But we do this. Over and over.

“No, you shouldn’t feel pain if you’re living your (or someone else’s) dream!”

“You cannot slow down on the work you’re putting in at your job, on your dreams, on gaining knowledge, on your relationships. You’ll backslide and lose all the progress you’ve made. Never mind exhaustion... just go.”

"No, you can’t believe you’re not good enough. Truth it out of yourself! You’re adequate because… because…" we search for the truth we know in our brains but don’t really believe. "Ah! Because He says I’m fearfully and wonderfully made!”

I so often speak truth over myself but never let it seep more than skin-deep.

All of this is self-talk, self-punishment, self-“encouragement”. What if we let Him do the talking, just for a bit? What would our sweet Father say to His confused children?

I catch myself still coming up with answers of what I think He would say, based on what I know.

Hush, self. What is He actually saying?