With little less than twenty-four hours before boarding a plane for Guatemala with Compassion Bloggers, I crawl in between Hope and Shalom to whisper prayers, feel us all breathe close together.
Shalom whispers, “One more night and you go. I think I might cry.” By the hall light, I can see her chin silhouetted. See her tremble. We cling. I can feel it too, the heart water’s rising, that lump in my throat a levee, holding it all back.
We lay there in the dark, hands clasped.
Hope leans close to Shalom, her face pressed against mine, “We’re never far apart when we’re all in Jesus.”
Shalom pats my cheek, assurance.
Levi calls. When I go to him, kiss his forehead, he wraps his arms around my neck and he prays soft, “Please, God, cause us to glorify You, wherever we are this week — You’re so great.”
I murmur Amen — Amen. Stroke back his cowlick. Whisper in his ear, “You are such a son!” Eyes closed and him nestled under, I catch a glimpse of his freckles spreading in smile. I don’t know if my levee will hold.
I turn out his light.
And find this lit up on the computer screen. Outside of Guatemala City.
Record rainfalls breaks hearts and whole lives, the red Guatemalan earth slipping straight away in landslides, and why must the poorest people pay the highest price for a fallen world slipping away too ?
My stomach knots. Their eyes haunt.
I sit still in the dark, overwhelmed by torrential blessings, by faces and pain and grace, and wonder why, why?
How can I live in anything but this humbled grace?
How can I not give but everything from these hands of thanks?
How can we glorify God by doing anything less than this?
The Farmer and I sleep, hands entwined…. letting it all go.
waking to basic blessings and feeling them deep….
#1856 – #1871 endless thanks for the common endless gifts
food on the table
mattresses with bedding
hum of a washing machine
a good roof
a pillow at the end of every day
this breath and this one and this one
the opportunity to glorify God however, wherever, right now
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