Huddling in small dwelling places

Fun fact about Japan: on the main island of Honshu, various forms of heat are used in the winter, but central heating is generally not an option. The Japanese value air flow--and because their houses are built to allow air in, they're not necessarily good at retaining heat--making them impractical for central heating. We use many "tricks" to stay warm--hot water bottles of all kinds; electric, gas, or kerosene heaters; electric floor carpets under futon; hot baths, hot tea, and a lot of soup...tonight I have candles lit, which at least produce an atmosphere of light and warmth. :) The rooms in Japan all have sliding doors, which are used to "section off" the rooms in the winter to try and create a small space which warms quickly and cheaply.

Now, I'm from Minnesota, so cold winters aren't new or shocking. And using various methods of heat is kind of fun--like a game to see who can discover the most efficient source of warmth (okay, I must confess that I detest kerosene and practically forbid its use unless absolutely necessary--most of my experience is with very noxious old heaters). The sectioning off of the rooms, however, is something I can't quite get used to. Call it claustrophobia if you will--there is just something sad about trying to find the smallest space available and huddling up in it for weeks of cold and dark. Today, a day without work responsibilities, I braved the chilly weather to welcome the sun and air-out the apartment, and something in my heart was glad when the crisp air was flowing through open doors and walking and cleaning from room-to-room could be free and easy.

As the day went on, I slowly succumbed to the dropping temperatures and the evening darkness, and now my doors are all shut with shades drawn, and the heater is at my feet. And as I sit here, surrounded by barriers and walls, I find myself thinking of how I feel sometimes so shut-in--so separated by my American-ness and my Minnesotan-ness and my pastor's family-ness and my introversion and my love for music and books and...all of the things that sometimes seem unwanted or in-the-way. Yesterday's failures...and the seemingly endless weeks of relational failures...are lingering in my thoughts, and I'm wishing that I could open the psychological doors placed around my identity here and step into fresh air and life and just be and feel as though that was okay. Relational ministry is not for the faint of heart--it so often feels that part of one's job is to fulfill everyone's expectations and keep them happy. How can I step out of those doors, those walls? My light and warmth is found in a God much bigger than my little heater--I have no need to stay in the small space of judgments and failures to receive warmth and love! Why, oh why do I stay? And how can I get free?

Logically, I know that after the first 6 months of being in a place, all of my original push to connect and be happy is gone...and it usually takes me a full year to begin feeling connected...so the second half of the first year is just a "slogging through the mud" time. Or "battering down the walls" time, if I stick with my metaphors. :) But though I can be logical and even remember past experiences, tonight the walls loom large and my heart can only haltingly repeat the old truth:

"Lord, you have been our dwelling place

throughout all generations.

Before the mountains were born,

or you brought forth the whole world,

from everlasting to everlasting, you are God." (Ps. 90)

My dwelling place is spacious...and secure. These human and relational walls...they carry the illusion of power, and there is pain in tearing them down, but they do not have to be where I reside.

Please, God, keep reminding me of this during this time of pounding on walls. And please, God...could you please run me into someone here who can help with the tearing down process?