Total weariness pervades everything, it curls up on the lap of my mind drawing me inward unable to process these past few days. The tiny miracles which display the Father and the wild events which display the gaping holes in His heart for the utter lostness of this people collide and scatter like a box of puzzle pieces dumped on a table or thrown over the edge of a tall building.
A conversation about the wandering period of souls after death before rebirth back into the wheel of life leaves no room for English translation, or an English teacher's understanding. An evening of crowds bordering on mass hysteria gathered together in a plaza for an event of long forgotten significance, in the tug and heat of the mob a glimpse of two students a moment to link arms with them, draw them close, and beg them to be safe. Babies carried on shoulders sporting toboggans reading: HAPPY so that they won't be crushed in the dark semi drunk crowds. An orphanage nestled in a nearby valley and the small ice cold hands of children eating balls of roasted barley flour and butter for breakfast then grabbing the foreigner's hand to lead her to their bed rooms. A tiny boy, far too small for his clothes, pouring water for his fellow orphans, zipping up jackets, then going to fetch a mop for some additional act of service. A trip to a tea house and upon entering being greeted by a nun, climbing the stairs to sit on the carpet that serves as her bed as the sweet tea flows and hugs and smiles abound... she refuses to let go of my hand. A lunch at a new Chinese restaurant only to be totally loved up in a language that I can't understand by the old Chinese grandmother in charge. Another tea, another conversation, another lifetime... words are explained that have no English meaning, butter tea greases the insides and a trio of girls laugh at the brother's prolonged and nearly totally fluent English descriptions of angry ghosts. A totally mundane and oblivious walk down the street only to be suddenly rushed at and hugged by the girl who used to sell junk outside of the school gate my joy at seeing her falteringly expressed by few Tibetan phrases that my surprise would allow.
Days where there are too many interesting things, too much evidence that the Father is indeed at work, too many reasons to be excited and thankful and expectant... totally crushed under the heavy weight of fatigue, blocked out by the pounding headache induced by the neighbors obnoxious pounding on the wall.
Like puzzle pieces thrown over the side of a tall building, dripping through the air like rain, scattering on the pavement far beneath like memories. And so tired that it looks like it's happening in slow motion.
