Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Even in this Season

     The rain has been falling in intervals... first slowly, then a steady beat, then it will relent for a few minutes, only to repeat the cycle again. It is always cold.

      Manila is closed today as flood waters rise in certain parts of the city. Our babies are safe here in a home on high ground. The kids color and make hot chocolate. We bury ourselves in paper work.

      It has been a week of rain, water falling from heaven like I wish tears could fall from my face.

      We lost two babies last week.

      She had come on Sunday, her body starved and tight with a year's worth of rejection. We held, we whispered, kissed, cherished, caressed the soft little cheeks that held potential for such beauty and grace.

      Her name means "Resurrection". I prayed for a resurrection of her body and soul. He had something different in mind.

       I don't understand, and I know I will not for a long time. I may never.

       I have to trust that He is still God over this season.

       Less than eight hours after she went to Him, our sweet little boy, the one who had been defying the odds for years fell unconscious.

       His little body, the one I have held and loved, the one I have kissed, the beautiful little grin of mischief... it struggled. There is no other way to put it. His death was hard. It was ugly, and in this country, there was nothing we could do.

       And now he is gone. She is gone. And my questions are not.

       And the heart that was able to detach for the necessary purpose of doing my job, is now trying to find it's way back to my body.

       Sometimes the rain doesn't always bring healing.

       I love to play in the rain, to run and jump in the puddles, to feel the wind on my face. I have since I was little. The rain was my friend, my comfort.

       Even now, part of me wants to run as fast and far as I can into the rain until I feel... cold, wet, feverish, alive... something. Anything.

       And I can't take pleasure in this rain, knowing that while I am safe, the little ones I love are frightened and clutching the rooftops of their little shacks.

       I want to be there. To run there, to fly there, to do anything to help and keep them safe.

       But I can't.

       I have to trust He is God, even in this season.

       And so we wait... for answers that may never come, a grief that may never be observed, a heart that won't fit quite right anymore, for the floodwaters to subside.


1 comment:

  1. You and everyone at GH are in my prayers. I can only imagine how hard this week has been on everyone. Just keep being His hands & feet... I pray for God's peace upon you all as you love and serve the least of these.

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