I was driving home from work today. End of the day-a good day. The car was quiet and I was enjoying just being in familiar surroundings again.
It just hit me.
and this face
and this face
and I cried.
Not tears of sadness. But joy, for the work that God has done in their lives. Tears of knowing that Jesus is faithful and is the same no matter what.
I seem to have a period of awkward transition when I return from Kenya. This trip has been no different. How does one slip between two opposite cultures and just move on?
My heart is in two places and I pray that God allows the two worlds I call home become one.
It's so tough to put into words what was seen, heard, smelled and tasted. A land that millions of fatherless children try to survive in every day.
I know that Jesus is the same-no.matter.what. That phrase kept coming to my mind with each situation I listened to of the suffering, of the joy. Stories of death resulting from the political violence that erupted 2 yrs ago. Stories of hope as Priscillah's son is being nursed back to health. The stories of neglect and abuse the Mattaw kids endured and how now they are rescued and are being restored and are future leaders of their own country.
God has a plan. It may not be our plan. No matter what the cost. Our lives are to be lived in such a way that brings to Him and Him alone-no matter where you live.
And sometimes, a girl just needs a good cry. Growing hurts.