Gracie, my friend in Tanzania, stood by a wall waving goodbye as Matt and I drove off in a cab on our way into town. We wouldn’t be back until that evening and were leaving at 4 a.m. the next day so it was the last time I’d see her. I knew it. I don’t think she did.
At the time I thought it was best that way. Maybe she wouldn’t think that her new friend, who she had shared so many 
Fantas with, was leaving her. Maybe she wouldn’t have the feeling of abandonment I so desperately wanted to avoid. Or maybe I just didn’t want to face her. That’s it. I was scared.
It was (is) hard for me to understand how I could love someone so quickly even when I had no idea what she was saying half of the time. She was a child, what did I have in common with her? The times we shared weren’t that long, but she brought joy. For a short while she was mine.
And now she’s gone.
Until this point the goodbyes have been easy. They haven’t affected me. It’s just been a part of life, but this goodbye that never even really happened has been one of the hardest things I’ve had to deal with. I may never see her again. And I have to be OK with that.
I have to trust that the love she felt pouring out from me will last her a lifetime because the love she felt wasn’t actually mine, it was God’s. It’s so hard to trust that.
So as I sit in an orphanage in Malaybalay, Philippines, I find it difficult to face the children who again so desperately need love. They have nobody but the people who work here and us to show them that they’re worth it. That they’re special. And it’s hard. I fear loving them, but mostly I fear leaving them.
Will they wonder why God would send someone for only a short period and not a lifetime? Will they question whether what they get from us is actually love? How can a month’s worth of attention from a group of strangers make an impact in their lives?
When I left Gracie, I left her a note. On her English homework I saw perhaps one of the saddest things I’ve seen. On the question, “When is your birthday?” The answer “We don’t no” was written in the blank. She doesn’t even celebrate her birthday. But I plan to. I’ve promised her that each year on Aug. 22 I will celebrate her life. I will thank God for her and trust that he will do great things in her life. I said I believed in her. And trust that God will use those words to make her into a woman who changes the world.
