i have to say this now

I have to vent this. except, 'vent' has an angry connotation to it, and i am not angry. heartbroken is a more apt word for the moment

or not so much for the moment, but for this period of September-June. my apprenticeship, as they call it. The more earthly parts of me wonder how i ended up here--a far, far cry from the non-profit sector professional development I thought I was signing up for. I work with people living with HIV/AIDs, and some of them are healthy, some of them are not so much, and some of them, we are surprised to find as we arrive to work each morning, have (just barely) made it another day.

my heart is breaking for the people who suffer under this disease,
my heart is breaking for the maltreatment they experience at the hands of both individuals and whole communities,
my heart is breaking for those who are bitter, see no hope and wish only to die,
my heart is breaking for the failure of the Church to love my modern-day lepers,
my heart is breaking for the many people who are as ignorant as I was six months ago, or worse--those who are beligerantly condemning.

but more than anything else, so much more than any of that,

my heart is breaking for how little everyone around me knows of God and his Son. Clients and co-workers alike. If they see God at all, it's only as one who bestows his merciful love and wants nothing in return, a being who exists as assurance for poor mortals that their suffering will inevitably end one day. The name of God is merely used as a comfort; the name of Christ does not exist here at all, that I can see. Most times, I wonder if anyone here knows Christ -- is it really possible that I'm the only one??? How could that be?

So many people acknowledge God's sovereignty, it seems, but they dance around with only that idea and nothing more, and it's almost as though for that, they're further away from Christ than the aetheist himself. That's a cruel irony that hurts more than almost anything.

I could never do this for "real"...I am amazed at and admiring of believers who are called by God to go into any kind of social aid, be it medicine or social work. Today at lunch my dad asked if I would take a job here if they offered it--or I should say, he started to ask, but didn't finish, as my laughter interrupted him.

I'm not jaded or bitter; I've said numerous times and still maintain that I wouldn't go back and choose a different path if I had a chance, and I don't believe I could possibly regret my having been here once my time is over. I just don't have the heart to be in this beyond the end I have already been given. I recently remarked to a friend that I can hardly see how it's possible to work with such in-your-face mortality and hold onto both your faith and your emotional sanity. Maybe such a perpetual reminder of the believer's burden is a good thing, but...I just don't know how people handle it.

Regardless of how I may be alternately grateful for and disgusted with how I "deal," a certain brand of stoicism becomes something of an art here. I'm usually pretty good about keeping it all reined in, and this is only the second time I've broken down behind the closed door of my office, but I just have to say this.

and prayer is the only thing i have to abate the heartache, i think.