I apologize in advance, as my words are going to fail me.
It’s Sunday morning, we’ve just finished up Sunday school with the kids, and I am mentally taking a break.
Some of our team has been working on photographing all of the kids here at the home in order to get better, updated versions posted. A few kids still needed to get their pictures taken, so the team members got back to work.
One of the girls, holding tiny Jefri, needs her picture taken. He’s crying and screaming in her arms as she tries to sooth him. “Give him here. Go take your picture.” And she hands over the tiny, screaming child to me.
“Shh, Jefri, it’s okay, it’s okay.” I start walking, bouncing this disabled 7-year-old on my hip. Instantly he seems to hush. Perfect, job accomplished, no more soothing and rocking and hushing and sweet whispering necessary. I stand still again, watching the photography session continue. And as the camera clicks away, Jefri begins to cry again.
Well, walking worked the first time…. And so I begin walking, this time down the road toward the soccer field and the older boys’ dorm. Finally, I arrive (although I’m not sure how you arrive when you don’t really have a destination). And there I stand, holding Jefri, watching the other kids play soccer, and looking beyond at the beautiful mountains.
I’m not sure I have ever seen so clear a glimpse of God’s handiwork.
Those kids, this child, the indescribable beauty of the pine trees and the palm trees and the mountains and the clouds. All I could think was that I had the privilege of seeing first hand so much of my Creator. And what a blessing and a joy that is.
