Showing posts from July, 2018

The path to surrender is the road of the cross

It was early, but the birds were awake to witness our departure.  I'm sure they sang like they did every other morning, but I was in no frame of mind to hear them.  The sun was throwing pale yellow rays through the fronds that hung over the uneven road to our neighborhood known as Colonia Becklin.  And just beneath the height of the hanging coconuts grew a Plumeria tree displaying Nicaragua's national flower.

I wonder, sometimes, at how the earth still spins and pushes forth beauty when a world can stop short, caving in from the weight of sadness and disappointment.

Our home for the past year, with its concrete walls and leaking roof, its dusty floors and roach filled kitchen, stood in stoic silence as we passed by for the last time.  Our call to missions wasn't suppose to the end this way, this soon.  The guards had given us a bored, sleepy wave when we drove through the gate.  We were one of many missionaries who had lived in that neighborhood.  I doubt they remember ou…