She lives in Kenya.
I sit down this morning to write to her, her last letter at my right hand.
She tells me she was in position 1 in the first term of school and in position 3 in the third term.
She tells me that she and her family are in good health and how the Lord “has blessed our country.”
And she thanks God that He has blessed her and her family.
And I think of mud and thatch and dust and dirty water.
I think of poverty and pain and disease.
I wonder at child eyes that find beauty and blessing in the midst of brokenness.
Whose mind is steadfast in the midst of stress.
Whose heart bubbles gratitude in the midst of grim.
And I write to her of red leaves and butterflies and tell her she is always in first position with God.
And I tell her that I’m wrapping her in my heart today and wonder if I should say that. Will she understand? Will someone be able to explain my heart?
My heart aches because I want to hold her close, skin to skin, to touch her face with my hands.
And it aches as I look around me and see mismanaged blessings in needless stuff.
And I’m ashamed.
At what I could have done and where I could have gone.
I wonder how the small checks I send and the words I write can make any echo in the canyon of suffering.
I am so broken.
And yet I know He’s the master of the messy.
He loves to break the broken and re-create beauty.
He longs for the imperfect so He can make perfect.
And through my just-as-I-am He can make me just as He is.
I’m listening to Shaun’s Third World Symphony this morning.
I am in tears.
And I’m reminded how He gave all so I can give all.
That He pours grace in and over me so I can drip it on others.
And how many drops, notes from a symphony, can fill a canyon and wash away suffering.
Let it come, Lord.
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This is a repost from last year when the album released.
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