“Are you glad to be back?”
I have no simple answer for these questions. Traveling with my husband was glorious. Having my girls learn to speak a second language was fascinating. I loved the slower pace of the European culture, the Sunday family time, the gorgeous churches, the festivals for the varied seasons. Life was enjoyable, lived.
And it has filled me with regret over my previous attitude toward aliens.
Yes, I blush at my insensitivity.
Why then, should I assume anyone else could manage an easy shift into a new culture? Why then should I expect others to not have the same soft weaknesses in their lives? To not need tenderness?
Why was I blind to the need for mercy? To the reality that I, most assuredly, am part of this wreck of broken humanity?
Mercy had a beautiful way of healing those hard parts of my heart, and it showed me the way I want to be, and the love I want to give.
I felt both its lack and presence acutely.
I’m certain I have hundreds of other ways in which I fail to love. But I am thankful for the reminder of how blind I am, and how crucial it is to walk through life seeing others—for their sake, and for mine.