Some days the urge is there to just write. About what? I am not sure, but there is a craving deep inside to take what is burning in my heart and validate it through written words. It's how I process, I grieve... not with tears, but words. And maybe it will make sense.
This is what I get for reading blogs. Sheesh.
I miss them... the three faces that resemble my own. Different eye color, all taller than I, but connected by heart, as cheesy as that sounds. Sometimes, you just want to laugh and hold, and look in the eye instead of a computer screen. They make the deepest sacrifice of all, losing a big sister who can't devote heart and soul like she used to. But did I ever really? Because, I can look back at 100 different scenarios when I could have done better, loved well.
And that has been the theme of my heart... To learn to love well.
Not just love, not just give a little. To give everything, and sometimes hold back when the object isn't ready for everything.
To love well sometimes means holding back when the nurturer in me wants to smother the pain away.
To love well means letting go, trusting that He knows to love even better than I.
To love well means to embrace and never let go... of hope, grace, compassion, forgiveness.
To love well means I see with different eyes... that even though my country may scream for blood, I must scream for peace.
And I walk around on Sunday, the place I feel alive. I scrape my foot on a rock, noting a thought to cover it in alcohol when I get home.
It's been raining, which means muddier than usual, dirtier than usual, more leaping over puddles that hold who-knows-what.
But those faces... every effort is worth those little faces. New little friends who learn to trust.
There is so much pain still. Sometimes the outward pain mirrors the brokenness I can see in myself.
And I look for her, the little one I pray every night before that I get to see, the one I prayed harder for Saturday night for some reason.
I see her... the last part of our walk through with the little sister always attached. And I hold her close, and really, we don't let go until the last minute as I walk to the Kia. I don't know why we bonded, or why she lets me hold her.
But I wanted to run with her. Scoop the little one, her sister into my arms and run as fast as we could to somewhere else, somewhere away from here.
But I can't... because right now, loving well means loving the best I can from this point.
So I wait, and I watch.
And there's the man of skin and bones, dying in the corner.
And there's the little boy with a leg filling with infection.
And I look in my arms at the little sister who finally let me hold her.
How do you love well when you walk through hell?
How do you love well when life is easy?
How do you love well when you are so incapable to give anything?
I don't know.
I just, don't know.
This is what I get for reading blogs. Sheesh.
I miss them... the three faces that resemble my own. Different eye color, all taller than I, but connected by heart, as cheesy as that sounds. Sometimes, you just want to laugh and hold, and look in the eye instead of a computer screen. They make the deepest sacrifice of all, losing a big sister who can't devote heart and soul like she used to. But did I ever really? Because, I can look back at 100 different scenarios when I could have done better, loved well.
And that has been the theme of my heart... To learn to love well.
Not just love, not just give a little. To give everything, and sometimes hold back when the object isn't ready for everything.
To love well sometimes means holding back when the nurturer in me wants to smother the pain away.
To love well means letting go, trusting that He knows to love even better than I.
To love well means to embrace and never let go... of hope, grace, compassion, forgiveness.
To love well means I see with different eyes... that even though my country may scream for blood, I must scream for peace.
And I walk around on Sunday, the place I feel alive. I scrape my foot on a rock, noting a thought to cover it in alcohol when I get home.
It's been raining, which means muddier than usual, dirtier than usual, more leaping over puddles that hold who-knows-what.
But those faces... every effort is worth those little faces. New little friends who learn to trust.
There is so much pain still. Sometimes the outward pain mirrors the brokenness I can see in myself.
And I look for her, the little one I pray every night before that I get to see, the one I prayed harder for Saturday night for some reason.
I see her... the last part of our walk through with the little sister always attached. And I hold her close, and really, we don't let go until the last minute as I walk to the Kia. I don't know why we bonded, or why she lets me hold her.
But I wanted to run with her. Scoop the little one, her sister into my arms and run as fast as we could to somewhere else, somewhere away from here.
But I can't... because right now, loving well means loving the best I can from this point.
So I wait, and I watch.
And there's the man of skin and bones, dying in the corner.
And there's the little boy with a leg filling with infection.
And I look in my arms at the little sister who finally let me hold her.
How do you love well when you walk through hell?
How do you love well when life is easy?
How do you love well when you are so incapable to give anything?
I don't know.
I just, don't know.
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