Of Capes

I'd always been a fan of my Super Woman cape. 

I wore it well. 

And often.

If a friend was in emotional, spiritual or physical pain, I was the hugger, prayer, or driver. If they were in the hospital, or on their way to the ER, I was the go-to person. There were countless nights that I'd get home after midnight, hang up the cape in my closet, and climb into bed for a few hours of sleep before heading out to work the next morning.

It's who I was.

What I did.

How I rolled.

My phone would be constantly making noise - countless emails, texts and phone calls each day.

Most of the time I loved it! 

It was who I was. 

I had worth, because I was needed. 

And then that was stripped away.
I was in a new country.
Without US cell service.

The first few months, I went from having a phone that received upwards of 30-40 texts a day, to getting one text a week - and that was generally from the phone company telling me I could purchase additional minutes and get double for the same price.

Near the beginning of my time down here, I was talking to one of my nearest and dearest, about a situation happening at home, where I desperately wanted to be there to "FIX IT!" She said, lovingly and firmly - "Lindsay. Do what you went to Costa Rica to do. Start praying."

And the internal struggle raged - 

BUT DON'T YOU KNOW??
     It's MY JOB!
          I need to FIX IT!
Not just... pray?
     To the One Who is actually capable of fixing it.
          Crap.
               Truth hurts.

Time and time again in my months here, I've had the realization that all I can do is pray. I'm thousands of miles away.

I can't drive up the driveways of friends who need me.

Or to ERs.

Or funeral homes.

Or psych wards.

Or grocery stores.

Or anywhere.

All I can do is - -

deploy   Jesus   into   the   situation. 

And sit back, and watch.

Yes - I wore the cape well.

But it wasn't mine to wear.