Being Here
Someone asked me to write an article for the Accent. I think this is what I will send them, but haven't fully committed...For what it's worth...
Two dark-haired little boys glare at each other with clenched fists. Their faces are tight with anger; a dark fire in their eyes. I mentally calculate the risk of leaving all the girls unattended with a ball in the classroom. It’s P.E. time, but it’s raining, and with no gym, that means we all play inside. That means high potential for chaos at the end of the day. But I have no choice.
I try to leave the “volleyball” players with instructions to “be careful,” and check in with Tony and Jaydon across the room. It seems potentially explosive, but I know both boys are soft-hearted at their core. I just hope that part wins. I start trying to talk with them, but I never know what to say. All my sentences sound really lame to me, and I don’t know if it’s helping. Two other boys come over to try to calm them down. I am needed to settle some “volleyball” drama, so I have to pray and trust that the other boys can help while I work on that. I am able to get some unsteady peace there, and I see that the volcanic boys are continuing their glaring contest. Sweat beads up and runs down their little foreheads, and their breaths are short. I finally make it back and gently pull Tony over to sit down in a chair. Tears wash over his dirty face, as he desperately wipes them away. I lamely try to calm him down with “deep breaths,” but am praying for the Holy Spirit to do His work. He is the only one who can change the inside.
Amazingly, He does. Jaydon slowly, stiffly walks over. It seems to take all the strength he can muster, but he looks Tony in the eye, and through his own angry tears, quietly says, “I’m sorry.” Tony looks up a bit, still trying to stop the flow from his eyes. Jaydon slowly reaches his hand out and puts it on Tony’s shoulder. Tony returns the gesture. It’s for real. They’re friends again. Just in time too, because Yuka is crying loudly across the room again.
In the middle of these daily adventures, I sometimes forget the bigger picture. Sometimes, when I am enjoying more pleasant adventures, and the rich blessings of a good, spiritual community of student missionaries, I don’t remember the exact details of why I came here.
The truth is, I’m in the middle of the story now; in the middle of the healing and growing. Kirsten’s legacy has become a part of me in some ways; a part of what I am doing. Stories of what she did, what she was like, how much she was loved and is missed, come and go often in conversations with kids and adults alike. I am realizing that the story does not end with the tragic loss of Kirsten, but it’s not easy to know what it should look like next. The small, every-day moments will shape this next chapter, and I can’t tell what it will look like yet. I’m in the middle of it all. But I know that this story is not up to me anyway; it really belongs to its Author, Jesus. And I can trust that He who began this good work will be faithful to complete it. (Philippians 1:6)
Two dark-haired little boys glare at each other with clenched fists. Their faces are tight with anger; a dark fire in their eyes. I mentally calculate the risk of leaving all the girls unattended with a ball in the classroom. It’s P.E. time, but it’s raining, and with no gym, that means we all play inside. That means high potential for chaos at the end of the day. But I have no choice.
I try to leave the “volleyball” players with instructions to “be careful,” and check in with Tony and Jaydon across the room. It seems potentially explosive, but I know both boys are soft-hearted at their core. I just hope that part wins. I start trying to talk with them, but I never know what to say. All my sentences sound really lame to me, and I don’t know if it’s helping. Two other boys come over to try to calm them down. I am needed to settle some “volleyball” drama, so I have to pray and trust that the other boys can help while I work on that. I am able to get some unsteady peace there, and I see that the volcanic boys are continuing their glaring contest. Sweat beads up and runs down their little foreheads, and their breaths are short. I finally make it back and gently pull Tony over to sit down in a chair. Tears wash over his dirty face, as he desperately wipes them away. I lamely try to calm him down with “deep breaths,” but am praying for the Holy Spirit to do His work. He is the only one who can change the inside.
Amazingly, He does. Jaydon slowly, stiffly walks over. It seems to take all the strength he can muster, but he looks Tony in the eye, and through his own angry tears, quietly says, “I’m sorry.” Tony looks up a bit, still trying to stop the flow from his eyes. Jaydon slowly reaches his hand out and puts it on Tony’s shoulder. Tony returns the gesture. It’s for real. They’re friends again. Just in time too, because Yuka is crying loudly across the room again.
In the middle of these daily adventures, I sometimes forget the bigger picture. Sometimes, when I am enjoying more pleasant adventures, and the rich blessings of a good, spiritual community of student missionaries, I don’t remember the exact details of why I came here.
The truth is, I’m in the middle of the story now; in the middle of the healing and growing. Kirsten’s legacy has become a part of me in some ways; a part of what I am doing. Stories of what she did, what she was like, how much she was loved and is missed, come and go often in conversations with kids and adults alike. I am realizing that the story does not end with the tragic loss of Kirsten, but it’s not easy to know what it should look like next. The small, every-day moments will shape this next chapter, and I can’t tell what it will look like yet. I’m in the middle of it all. But I know that this story is not up to me anyway; it really belongs to its Author, Jesus. And I can trust that He who began this good work will be faithful to complete it. (Philippians 1:6)
Great Story...Definitely send it in. It shows the power of God working in the lives of His children.
ReplyDeleteas always this was so beautifully put. thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful. Praying for you, friend!
ReplyDeleteWhereever we find ourselves to be planted, that's where God can make His power evident through us.
ReplyDeleteYour testimony highlights this. Love ya, honey.
amazing
ReplyDelete