August 13, 2018

Saturday, I had the day off. In the morning, we sat around, drank coffee, read our books, and just talked about life. It was refreshing for the soul. It is an interesting dynamic to live in a house with girls chasing after the same mission, yet not knowing their stories. We have to band together and pour into each other to make it through the long days. That is what this Saturday morning was for us. It looked like coffee in one hand and our hearts extended to everyone around us. It looked like broken hearts being soothed through a community and lost souls being found again. We sat there with the cool breeze talking about our families, why we are here, and the struggles we are having in this season.

Some ache for the unbelief of their families, some long to be back with their fiancés, some are lonely & looking for friendship, and some hearts are broken over the stories we hear.

You see, we are all in one place yet feeling many different things. We are all experiencing similar things yet our backgrounds and upbringings shape our context. So we band together. Our nurses have been soothing and bandaging a burn on my leg, but isn’t this what we do everyday? They are caring for an outward wound on my body but we pick up the broken pieces of lives all around us everyday. We clean them up, put salve on the wound, & bandage it to keep moving throughout the day. We listen to stories, hold the babies tight, & teach them the Love of Christ.

Their stories keep me grounded, the smiles on the children’s faces make me feel alive, and the laughter as we run through the red dirt keeps me humbled.

I wish our American churches could hear the prayers of these women. I wish these women could come and pray over us…. Then we might understand. Last week, we walked the compound at the James Place and prayed over our staff & children. Mama Susan spoke the most beautiful and eloquent prayer of a humble servant that I have ever heard. I weeped as these words came out of her mouth. Although they may be materially poor, they are not poor in Spirit for they have tasted and seen the Love of their Father. I want their reliance and dependence on the only One who can satisfy our souls. One woman I have spent some time with never met her mother and was mostly raised by her uncle and a few step mothers. She got pregnant at 15 and her son’s father left her and now has another family. She said HEAL is the only thing that has been consistent in her life. Her son is being raised by the staff here, as we are her only family. She needs someone to say that they will stick around for her, be her cheerleader, and love her unconditionally. So we band together. Another child in preschool lives at Amani Orphanage down the road. Does anyone tuck her in at night? Does anyone tell her they love her and she can be anything she wants to be? Does anyone tenderly braid her hair and tell her she is beautiful? I want to wrap her up in a soft blanket, take her home with me, and promise her that all her pain will go away. And yet, that would only hurt her in the end. I have to pick her up, stroke her face, and teach her to be resilient.

Glennon Doyle says, “Life is not safe, and so our task it not to promise our kids there will be no turbulence. It’s to assure them that when the turbulence comes, we will all hold hands and get through it together. We do not promise them a heartache-free life, but we do assure them the the slings and arrows won’t kill them— in fact, they will make them kinder, wiser, more resilient. We look them right in the eye, point them to their pain, and say : Don’t be afraid, baby. You were born to do this.”

So we band together.

And Monday, we are back. Hello, Monday.

You are the start to every week as we brace ourselves on Sunday night for what you are to bring. How will the children be? What happened at the Amani Orphanage down the road where many of our children live? What happened over the weekend in all the homes where our staff and babies live? Who needs to laugh on Monday morning and who needs to be held? So far today, you have brought us exams in the preschools, the power being out, and all the tears & laughter that are experienced everyday at the James Place. Monday means a fresh start but it also means marrying up the thoughts in our minds to the actions of the day.

Who can we love well?

Monday is the start of being covered in a layer of dirt that does not come off until the weekend.

Monday is the start of rice & beans for lunch and praying someone brought hot sauce.

Monday is the start of being greeted by over 50 staff and all the hugs you can imagine.

Monday is the start of bathing babies before their nap and holding them close.

Monday is the start of re-learning what it means to love our neighbor.

Monday is the start of throwing off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles.

Monday is the start of dying to ourselves so that we may live.

Monday is the start of letting our hearts be broken so that we can be whole.