it was a rainy morning. pretty perfect for the mood of the compound as I had my bags packed and outside my door.
the kids were quiet. not the typical morning we were used to. they didn't talk at breakfast. and they certainly made no jokes.
the sound of the dirt made an extra crunch as I walked to the shop one last time.
one last time to hear "ivy, ivy. ivy" screamed from all the neighborhood children.
one last time to hold Shima's hand. interlocked. white and black. exactly how He envisioned.
one last time to hear I love you's.
one last time to memorize every line of their face.
one last time happened a few hours ago. and I am most confident that I will never be the same.
airports give time to think. flying alone gives moments alone. just by yourself. alone. praying. crying. crying. crying.
it was a hard morning. but it's not so much the "lasts" that get me. it's that this whole journey is over.
when I left djibouti...another country was stealing my heart. but now I am mourning my leaving DJ too. my heart is for those people. for my kids. for the babies.
I am not so naive as to think Satan will not take my weak heart and try to tell me lies. I am confident this week will be the toughest back home.
he has started. "you didn't do anything worthwhile." "why go back?" "no one was even saved."
but he seems to ALWAYS froget that my God already won. and always wins the war.
He has my heart. and though it may be shaken, it will not fail.
so as I sit in this airport alone waiting for Amsterdam. I will praise Him. confident He is at work. confident that He is holding my heart. and confident His very hand is the one drying my tears.
there have been scars (I have MANY physical scars). there have been struggles. there have been battles. and bad dreams. there have been children that have died. there have been people who rejected Him. but.
never once.
He never left. He never will.
never once.
have I realized His love more than I did in Africa.
haye aan ammaanno!
{let us praise Him!} (somali)
never once. not one time.
the kids were quiet. not the typical morning we were used to. they didn't talk at breakfast. and they certainly made no jokes.
the sound of the dirt made an extra crunch as I walked to the shop one last time.
one last time to hear "ivy, ivy. ivy" screamed from all the neighborhood children.
one last time to hold Shima's hand. interlocked. white and black. exactly how He envisioned.
one last time to hear I love you's.
one last time to memorize every line of their face.
one last time happened a few hours ago. and I am most confident that I will never be the same.
airports give time to think. flying alone gives moments alone. just by yourself. alone. praying. crying. crying. crying.
it was a hard morning. but it's not so much the "lasts" that get me. it's that this whole journey is over.
when I left djibouti...another country was stealing my heart. but now I am mourning my leaving DJ too. my heart is for those people. for my kids. for the babies.
I am not so naive as to think Satan will not take my weak heart and try to tell me lies. I am confident this week will be the toughest back home.
he has started. "you didn't do anything worthwhile." "why go back?" "no one was even saved."
but he seems to ALWAYS froget that my God already won. and always wins the war.
He has my heart. and though it may be shaken, it will not fail.
so as I sit in this airport alone waiting for Amsterdam. I will praise Him. confident He is at work. confident that He is holding my heart. and confident His very hand is the one drying my tears.
there have been scars (I have MANY physical scars). there have been struggles. there have been battles. and bad dreams. there have been children that have died. there have been people who rejected Him. but.
never once.
He never left. He never will.
never once.
have I realized His love more than I did in Africa.
haye aan ammaanno!
{let us praise Him!} (somali)
never once. not one time.
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