The Deal with Good Byes

I've said good bye to a lot lately - people, places, old comforts - without any true promise of seeing or experiencing their presence again. I have had to move on from dying relationships, leave behind sweet places I couldn't live at forever, and do what I could to let go of material comforts that faded, were eaten up, or were just too heavy to bring in my suitecase with me across the ocean.

The truth is, I hate to cry in front of people. I really do ... but the dignity I protect is a luxury I cannot afford when I've said the number of hard good byes that I have. I always wanted to say that letting go of people got easier as I got used to it, but I can't seem to callouse my heart enough. I wonder if anyone can.

But here I am; after stretching seasons, cycles of tears and laughter, quiet nights alone and slow mornings where I have little motivation to get up and live ... I am alive and I am thriving. I am in a country I have never called my own ... with friends I never would have met otherwise, particular, simple joys I never would have known elsewhere, and a blossoming peace in the solitude and among the questions. I have no doubt God will take care of my family and I; my faith has held strong! And now, after the many good byes I have suffered with, the seasons of testing, adjustment and faith, I find myself looking at a completely new, fresh, and exciting life ... just breaching the horizon.

　
　

I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.
John 14: 18, KJV

One of Them

The people who help you up
And the people who hug you till your tears are dry
Are the people who feel you -
The people who burned with you when the match was struck;

People who are burned already.

The truth is that ache is unavoidable,
But ache is what gives us power.
When you’ve fallen, you haven’t lost;
Not nearly as much as you’ve gained.
Those who fall are those who will fall over and over again
Everyday with their friends who suffer beside them.

Yes – everyday. Every friend who feels the repercussions of divorce,
Every soul that wastes away slowly under the increasing pressure of depression,
Every child who’s been left without a mother,
Every mother left without her child,
Everyday and everyone.

The tears of an angel harvested
By the man who promised her the stars,
The sweat of a child, terrified
Of the sound beating he knows is coming,
The sleepless weeks of a mother
Who misses the son she lost to tragedy,
The dark circles on a good heart
Whose hands are tied as they watch their house fall.

You know them all -
And all of them personally.
You know their ache and the sound of their breath
When it hitches, even though they’re too tired to cry.
You remember and you feel it -
Like the slit never healed,
Like the devil never left,
Like the shadows never fled,
Like the coffin never closed,
Like the bruise never changed,
Like words are still ringing,
Like the blow is still stinging,
Like the orphan is still waiting,
And the gates are still locked shut.

But every time you fall with them
(And fall with them again and again),
You remember;
Cuts do close!
The devil grows tired.
The sun chases the darkness over the far, far horizon.
You can silence the words.
There are good people in the world
Who will come and save us from abandonment ,
Who come and lift us from tragedy,
Who can feel with us and breathe with us and pray with us
Until the locks fall and the gates crumble -
And you remember,
You are one of them now.

Dumpsite VBS

Seem a little extreme? A camp for kids mostly between 4 and 14 ... hosted at the local trash heap (more like a mountain). The ground surrounding the dumping site is sprouting almost as many glass shards as scraggly thorn bushes (which are everywhere) and broken electrical equipment is lying haphazardly all over the place.

It's not exactly ideal, but it's definitely where we need to be.

Every day, dozens of children (and almost as many adults) head out to the dumpsite to (1) - gather recyclables, wh
ich the government pays them a few cents a day to do and (2) - search for bits of food and other things that could be helpful for their survival.

Most kids wouldn't sacrifice their day at the dump to walk somewhere else and hear a few Bible stories, so the mission team decided to make it easy and bring the camp to them.

Driving to the mainroad on day one - in front of us is the other kombi (driven by the other missionaries with us) with some of the kids riding on the back. The Back of our car looked pretty similar!

The dirt road leading up to the main dumping site. This is the area where we were working.

  A girl hanging from the side of our car.

 

 My Mom and sister helping wash hands before snack time.

Hoping ...

My Darling Readers,

Things are like a rollercoaster right now - I can honestly say, the night before the Babies left, I felt like someone in the front row as the cars go up the tracks ... on the jerky ride to the top of the first hill.

 I wait, I wait.

 I regret, my heart jumps - I see the tracks falling down the otherside and suck in my breath. That sweet, painful relief as you scream all of the tension out from the top of your lungs.

No joy in this, but I hate to say I feel a little bit of relief, since I don't have to look at those sweet faces.

The social workers came and took the children on Friday (September 7th). My heart bled out in tears as I kissed each one good bye, especially Baby D. I'm afraid they might never come back to this house again.

But, thing is, there's hope for that.

Before I yank you along on the rollercoaster that's changed our family so much,  I'll stop and let you think. There's a little hope, and it grows in our home day by day - like a potted sprout that leans towards the sunbeams coming through the window.

No promises that it will survive the cloudy winter, but it sure is nice to have a shoot of green in my house again.

Much love from Africa.