Photos.

-
So, I had to type something up for the Mission Partner's Breakfast this morning. I thought I would cheat, and use it as a blog post - because really, I have exactly zero time to type any other one.

---

I couldn’t choose one item, so I’ve decided to choose all of the millions of photos I take on a minute-by-minute basis.

Each of the photos tells a story - some are stupid, like the day I walked in to find the girls in Casa de Amor had used hundreds of bobbles to make their hair stand on end, or the day the boys in my class decided to give the teddy bears a bath in the water tray because they were dirty (they have yet to fully recover).

Some are sad - photos of families who have come to visit nieces, granddaughters, only to be refused permission for the children’s welfare - photos taken because maybe it is all they’ll know of their relatives. Photos of goodbye parties as children come and go with their missionary families, and children learn to say goodbye much earlier than anticipated.

Last photos - snapped just before children meet their parents, and then again just before they leave for good. Smiley, happy faces in front of the camera, with bittersweet memories being replayed behind the lense.

Photos of nature - of the surroundings God has placed me in, of the beautiful sunsets and the rain that finally falls. Or of the cows we bumped into on the way home from church.

Milestones - photos that should have been taken by parents, or by relatives at least. Photos of first steps, first foods, first words. Photos of Mother’s Day, Father’s Day events - where half of my world has them there with them, and the other half looks for substitutes.

Fun photos - from when we go out and learn about water right at the source. From when we dance our little hearts out in admiration and worship of the one who has placed us where we are. When we go out and enjoy a normal life, if only for a little while, while we just act like kids and play and run and shout.

Photos filled with love - caring for them while they’re sick, holding them while they cry, kissing their bruised knees. Becoming friends after fighting. Learning to work together, and enjoy it.

Sometimes the work I do here seems exhausting and never-ending. But then I look at the photos, and I see it for what it truly is - holy work. Sometimes, it just seems to holy and divine as I do every mundane thing asked of me that I want to fall to my knees. I spend each and every day thanking God for every hug, for every kiss, for every moment I get with them.


And as I look at the photos, I see His face in each of theirs. And on the hard days, that’s enough for me to get up and try again.

Comments

  1. Emily Booher17 May 2016 at 21:38

    Wow. So Touching. Great job putting all that into words.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

the ache.

-
This post isn't about one child. It isn't even really about me. It's about people all over the world, joined together by a pain, by a longing, an aching. People who have loved children unconditionally, children who were not theirs. Children who were not theirs, but who felt like theirs. Who they chose to love like they were theirs, who they chose to love like this wasn't a short term thing. Even though they were warned over and over not to do it. You see, though we come from different countries, though we speak different languages - we ache the same. We ache for children who are no longer ours. Maybe we're still in their lives, maybe we're not. Maybe we're happy with the life they have now, maybe we're not. Each of our situations are different, but they hurt the same. But here's the interesting thing, it's an ache we wouldn't give up. An ache we wouldn't give away. Because what that child got in return, well that's w...
Read more

#sleepover (one week later).

-
Image
I wrote this last week, and maybe forgot to post it. Apologies - but the photos are too cute to miss. So, when #braveheart was in hospital he asked me a couple of times where E. was, because he missed him. This is miraculous in and of itself since usually they're fighting. E. missed C. too, so we decided to bring him over for a sleepover. C. has a lot of rules for what he can and cannot do (all of the things a normal 4-year-old would want to do are not allowed...) so we've been pretty strict with him and the normally very torpe  (rough) E.  Also, neither of them speak the best, but they understand each other perfectly - Hannah and I have no idea what they're plotting or planning. Pray for us. (Edited: they did not kill us, thank the Lord.) Reunited, and it feels so good. Movie time before bed. (Don't tell them, but I might have fast forwarded through an hour of it to speed up bedtime.) E. took over my bed... C. had to sleep on the floor, so...
Read more

Psalm 139

-
In the last week and a bit CDA has taken in two newborns, both abandoned at a couple of hours old. I wrote this almost exactly a year ago about another little boy (whose life has changed completely, in the most wonderful way, a story for another day...) but it rings true for these two as well. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In the past Psalm 139, in my opinion, was a Psalm reserved for reading at dedications and putting in "it's a [insert gender]" cards when babies were born. I have since seen the error of my ways (different story for a different day) but it still has me thinking, what if no cards arrive? What if there is no celebration? What if it isn't the happy occasion we're envisioning? The first night I did night duty with sickbaby I read Psalm 139 over him for exactly the reasons I first set out - it's a good Psalm for babies. They were literally just...
Read more