I lost my best friend in Mexico.
My best friend who makes a yearly pilgrimage to visit in my exile landed in a plane four hours away from me and I had no way to get a hold of her. Her American cellphone would not work in Mexican soil, and I was a mess. I called the airport every 30 minutes, asked for her to be called on the intercom, paced, prayed, and was a general wreck for most of the day when I begged my boyfriend to please drive me to every bus station to see if we could find her.
On our way to the second bus station I got a message from her- she´d found Wi-Fi and was at the very bus station we were headed towards, waiting. I wish I could describe the rush of relief that washed over me- this monumental surety that someone I loved dearly was safe brought me to tears.
I´ve had a few days to think on this- to really sit with that day and wonder what fueled such fury of concern- how I had summarized my brilliant, Spanish speaking, grown woman, sister of my heart into a helpless person in need of my rescuing and I felt shame. How could I reduce her when she was more than capable of navigating herself to safety and to me?
The thing is, I don´t believe in a God that micro manages. We´ve all heard the stories of men who pray over what cereal to eat, what laundry detergent to use and we point and laugh, but really, we are not very far removed.
We ask our God to tell us how to define our families, how to cover our girls, how to build a world where those very girls are accountable for thoughts not their own, how to justify business transactions when so many of our members are starving and we call this good. But God, he is not a micro manager.
The God I grew up with- the one that trusted us enough to come and give it a go on earth- he trusted a lot more. He expected a lot more too. He expected us to love one another- that was his one great commandment, for us to love each other and to love ourselves.
And yet here we are- spending conferences and Sundays talking little of Christ (even during Easter!) and spending more and more time trying to force God to choose things that he trusts us with.
I can´t say I know the answers- as it stands, I walk with questions. Just like my friend, I too am on a trip back home, but unlike me, God is not panicked. He knows I am smart, and he trusts my decisions, and he waits for me to return to him again; he hopes I do it safely, and joyfully in a way I understand- but most importantly, he trusts me.
Azul Uribe
Azul is a binational (culturally) girl who currently resides in Merida, Mexico with her cat Chloe. Her work has been published in numerous other blogs, including Young Mormon Feminists, and she writes about re-assimilating , immigration and life in general over at www.happycosmopolite.wordpress.com. Her favorite Beatle is George Harrison and she hopes to someday be able to own a puppy.
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