The lives we lead

I was a child still when my oldest sister began to bring her friends to our home.  She went to a school that boarded both high school and college students who wanted to attend there but lived too great a distance to commute.  My parents would welcome them with open arms, feed them, and share their roof.

Sundays were always the busiest and most delightful times for me.  My mom would whip up a feast with little effort, and the lot of us would squeeze around the table and share life.  Many of the students that found their way into our home began to call my parents Mom and Dad, and in my young mind the idea was planted that families don't have to look like one another.

I've been considering the effect my own choices have on the lives of my children.  What truths do I want furrowed deep into their tender hearts?  What fruit would I hope for them to grow?

I've grown restless in my life.  There is a fire burning deep within me, consuming my thoughts.  It ignited somewhere along the streets of Managua.  Somewhere past the burning trash and the people who survive among it.   Somewhere nestled in the play room of an orphanage and among the children who are waiting for a new last name.  Somewhere in the eyes of those who have died to themselves because God asked them to live for him.  I have yet to quench the thirst that leaves my throat aching for water that brings life.  I want to taste and see.

And so the opportunity comes to return to Nicaragua, and it has become harder to say no than to say yes.  There are days when I am feeling brave and I find myself whispering to God that I will go as far as he wants to take me.  Parts of me are dying and I am experiencing a new life in a different way.

My Ella, she has been asking to come along.  She's heard the stories from her older siblings, and she isn't afraid to travel across the sea.  She has seen the pictures of a life so different from her own, and she wants to know more.  She tells me she wants to help people.

She may not realize it yet, but what she is really asking for is permission to live out the gospel.  God has already planted the seeds of mercy and compassion, and they are nestled in her heart just waiting to be watered.  I look into her eager eyes, and imagine what she could grow if she were given the chance.

So we fill out papers, and we make commitments to a summer trip.  I tell Ella we must trust God to provide, and we need to pray that he will meet our needs.  I want her to learn to lean on God for the desires he has placed in her heart.  I point to last year when the sum of a trip for four was impossibly high and overwhelming, but God gave us far more than we were asking.  I believe he will do it again.

We covet your prayers for this journey that our family is on, believing with you that God will guide us with each step that moves us closer to his perfect way.

If you would like to contribute to this mission trip, please visit our Go Fund Me page.


Popular posts from this blog

This is my Isaac

I once was lost

The Church will fail you