Across the Sea

There is a little boy across the sea.
We do not know him. We know him on paper,
mostly facts and figures, a small picture.
So how is it that he has already worked his way into our heart?
How is it that we already miss him and we've never met?

I wish he knew us.
I wish he knew how much love is here for him.
I wish this would somehow keep his heart from breaking when he says goodbye.

But it won't.
He will leave people he loves.
He will leave places he loves.
He will know nothing of the present or the future.
He will not know us.
He will not love us, yet.

It's so much, Lord.
So much for little boy hearts.
You'll hold his heart, won't You? And ours?

Somehow,
You will weave our hearts and lives
into the beautiful tapestry that You designed.
We do not know how.
But we know You will.
And we can't wait.

My Little Drummer Boy

 
He's nine years old.
The serious type.
Usually pretty quiet in a crowd.
But not today.
Today he rocked.
He rocked his gift and we worshiped the Giver.

(sadly, the video ends abruptly thanks to a  full memory card)

A quickly scribbled love note was sent down the bench.

And another, more precious than the first.

It's true. "He did the best."
And that happy face?

It's mine.

Home.

It's been one of those weeks.
Everywhere I turn, there's talk about home.
There's talk about roots.
There's talk about family.

There are innocent assumptions.
"Do your parents live nearby?"
"No, my parents died."

There is silence.
Silence that screams, "WE DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY!"
Conversations politely change. Discomfort is quickly averted. 
The unintended message is this: "You do not fit in. You are different. You do not belong."

It is a
very.
lonely.
place.

Holding back the tears takes years of practice.
Twenty years.
Still, sometimes tears spill.
It's just not what most people want to hear or see.
Trust me.
But don't pity me.


I
am
not
alone.


My Father hears.

My Father sees.

He holds back the tears 
that fill up my soul
until I can pour them out
on His feet.

And there at His feet,

I am loved.

I belong.

I am home.


"A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling."  Psalm 68:5

S p L a S H !

Hello!

Testing the waters today.  Brr... It's chilly.  But I'll warm up to it. 

Wade in slowly or dive right in?  Hmmm....

  

...S p L a S H !!!