Roses in the Desert: Courted, Chosen, & Cherished Намуна

Freely and lightly. I wanted that life and to be more like the woman described in Proverbs 31:25: 

“Strength and dignity are her garments; she smiles about the future.” I wanted to let go of fear, walk in faith, radiate like a woman much loved. 

I remembered what I’d known all those years ago in Italy. You’ll live abroad one day. And I remembered my grandmother inspiring that dream. Perched on the arm of her rocking chair, I’d fly to Paris with her for pastries in sidewalk cafes--tv trays topped with Little Debbie Snack Cakes set up along her sofa. Even better, she’d tell me stories from The Arabian Nights. Years later when I was devastated by divorce, she said: “God will use your sorrows and your strengths. He has something different, something great for you to do.” 

One year after that day by the lake, on the first day of a new school year, I climbed the steps to a new classroom. It looked like the one-room schoolhouse where my grandmother had taught in Kentucky when she was a girl. It was 4400 miles away in the desert kingdom of Morocco, and it was surrounded by roses. God led me to a new life of passion and purpose. Despite being raised with a supersized imagination and fairy tales in my genes, I experienced a reality even better than my dreams. Months before, He’d made me another promise. Like always, He kept it.

I’m going to start all over again. I’m taking her back out into the desert.  I’ll give her bouquets of roses. I’ll turn Heartbreak Valley into Acres of Hope. She’ll respond like she did as a young girl, those days when she was fresh out of Egypt.--Hosea 2:14-15 

I loved my students, my local and ex-pat coworkers, my new friends. For two years I felt courted, chosen, and cherished playing in secret gardens,  sledding and trekking by foot and mule across the Atlas Mountains, caravanning across the Sahara Desert, boating through Indiana Jones waterfalls, and watching sunsets from fortresses above the sea. I belly danced with coworkers, volunteered with village girls, and rested in a pasha’s palace, on rooftops, and in jasmine-scented courtyards beside rose-filled fountains under full moons.  

Ok, all was not pools and palm trees--threats from ISIS, a mugging, a wreck--but getting lost with God in Morocco meant finding the thrilled girl and braver woman inside of me. Trusting God--taking Him at his Word-- can be hard, counter-intuitive, risky. Following Him with faith in full throttle can mean losing more than expected. And gaining more than imagined. How incredible our Creator chooses, of all names, to call us Bride.