Last month I strained over heavy buckets to haul water for our cisterns. Hot and sweaty in a t-shirt and capris, the days filled with conversations in Khmer, restless siestas under the mosquito net, baskets loaded with fresh produce on the way home from the market.
Last week I wrapped warm in two jackets and cozy socks, one hand curled around a decaf white chocolate mocha as I wound through the rolling hills of Nebraska on the drive to see my brother. The leaves are yellow and red, the cornfields golden as they wait for harvest time.
These lives of mine feel farther apart than the oceans that separate them sometimes. Where is God in the disparity?
He is in the sacred worship alone through the vast expanse of Nebraska farmland, just as He is in the humble obedience of daily surrender in the sticky humidity of Cambodian rice fields. He is in the goodbyes and hellos, the winging over seas stretching wide, the settling in. He is in that first crazy trip to Wal-mart, the familiar drive to aunts and uncles, meals made and hands joined to bless bread broken around the home table. God is found in a clean and tidy front gate area, swept in early morning with neighbors on both sides, hard bristles on cement. He is there in a story heard for the first time, conversations on front stoops.
There is peace and strength in the entering and exiting, the meshing of worlds as they collide in my heart. As I enter again the life on the Asia side, I hold tightly to His hand and know He is there in each one and in every space in between.
Isaiah 41:10 So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.