In my heart, I speak three languages. My soul relaxes to the sound of German poetry, aches when it hears "Dtonga," and toetaps to the rhythmic, drawling accent of an American farmer. Music from these worlds bring me to tears and my insides dance in different ways to their melodies. "Wenn ich tanzen will," "Praying for You," and "Sweet Southern Comfort." Why is my heart spread across three continents? Darned if it doesn't make planning a future inconvenient.
The Lord knows it though. In my memory He walks with me in Dorfgastein and on the streets of a Vienna twilight. We've hiked together through the Rocky Mountains and sat side-by-side on her highest precipices. He stood quietly behind me smiling as I took in the view of Neiafu harbor for the first time, with the smell of smoke and the sound of the wind in the air. He knows my heart, and He knows it's not easy. But He has great plans. He gave me this love. I can't be three places at once, but His spirit is, and it's with me when I go to each of them. How thankful I am for memory. Sometimes it can be a burden, but it's often my best friend. That and imagination. One captures the beauty of the past, and one dreams of the future. Together they comprise a life. A beautiful life.
"... I know my God is listenin'...."