When I was a child, my mother taught me about God. My mother was a big fan-even as she was dying. Especially as she was dying. She would pray, not as some do, repeating a script or chant, or shouting out to an empty universe, but as if he were actually in the same room. There were times, during her prayers, that I opened my eyes and looked around to see who she was talking to. The Walk (Richard Paul Evans).
Just six days left in the UK and then back to the United States and on to Living Waters. It’s already getting difficult to think about returning on some level because I miss Austin and Simon terribly and can’t wait to be in either of their presence. Still, I’m not quite done with my summer commitments and am sure that Living Waters will be such a positive experience and hopefully I can help a few people along the way as well.
It’s been comforting to return to living out of a suitcase over the last eight weeks or so in that it reminds me of our time in the mission field. I love the way God has given me the ability to be thankful and happy wherever I am. What a tremendous blessing that is. I’m easily satisfied much of the time, low maintenance, and don’t seem to require much at all to be able to smile or connect with those around me.
Still, on occasion, there remains that deep sorrow, way deep down inside, tucked safely away. It is in the darkest of those times that the light of friendship shines brightest when I’m willing to reach out to it.