For the last 7 years, I have devoted myself heart, soul, body and mind to a mission that I believe God called me to fulfill. To see a nation transformed. To see a generation connected to the heart of the Father. To live a life of laid down love. To be a mother. With the spirit of God as my fire, my own literal blood, sweat, and tears were sown into the soil of a country. At times I felt like a kamikaze. Laying my life on the line. Facing horrific hellish situations but persevering under fire. Going into hiding, buying coffins for children under the age of 5 years old, betrayal and deception after betrayal and deception, being slandered and accused of unimaginable things, threatened to be imprisoned, threatened to be deported without return, threatened to be shut down, seeing loved ones and innocent ones victimized and suffering, being stolen from, oh God the list goes on. Still I kept fighting. I kept believing....for the joy set before me. I knew there was a higher glory, a glory that triumphed over every weapon the enemy could try to throw at me or our ministry. I would not give up or raise a white flag because I knew the scripture. He has overcome the world. Sometimes that world felt God forsaken, full of every kind of evil, but feelings aren't always true. God was and is and ever will be always present. Always near. Our ever present help in time of need. He trained my hands for battle. He trained my fingers for war. He broke rebellion until I was just a small lump of clay ready to bend ready to change shape at any moment, ready to jump at his whisper. Now I'm a daughter who knows I'm a soldier. But every good soldier yields when her commander says break. When her commander says rest, peace, healing, time for recovery. Time to pull away from the battle field. Time to remember what the battle is all about. Time to remember the why and see the forest again.
I'll never forget that little boy. It was another day in the slums, my favorite place. A place of desperation and destitute poverty, where people are hungry in every way. I was just being a kid with the kids like I always do. They are my favorite because they remind me. They remind me of the simplicity of being a child. Of getting out of my head and into my heart, into the place of flow. So I just chased him and tickled him until his tiny little dirty body in his little ragged clothes blissfully fell into the dirt. I tickled him and tickled him and we would laugh and laugh. Then he would raise his arms up over his head again. Never letting me stop. So I would tickle him again and again and again and there we were. In the slums experiencing heaven. Laughing until our tears stained the red dirt. This must have gone on for at least 45 minutes. I remember thinking as we laughed together and looked into each other's eyes...of the healing we were both getting. Laughter is good like medicine. Maybe this boy had never been tickled before. Probably he doesn't get enough affection and hugs. In typical Ugandan fashion, parents are so serious and strict with kids instead of just letting them be...kids. I was loving this moment. Just a sweet moment with Jesus full of joy, peace, hope, affection, healing, eye contact. What a sweet little boy. He really touched my heart. A perfect little miracle moment.
He's the one down directly to my right in this picture.
No comments:
Post a Comment