Welp five months deep in the world race and the goodbyes just. keep. coming. As frequently and routinely as this happens you’d think I’d get the hang of it. But nope. Seems the delicate art of goodbyes like the skill of repacking my backpack elude me still.
Let me set the scene; it’s our last night at ministry. Kicking off an all night prayer vigil. First up we gather all the kids and pray over them one by one. That alone wrecked me. After we tuck the little ones in we sit with in a circle and sing, pray together. Then we talk to them about how just before Jesus was given over to his enemies he washed the feet of his disciples. And how Jesus taught us a beautiful lesson in that everyone is worthy of his love and service. How it’s been a privilege to serve them these last few weeks and want them to rest in the lord’s presence while we wash their feet as a sign of his love. Again, wrecked. But the night isn’t over yet. Mama vivi (our ministry host) calls everyone to speak a few words. Hallelujah!! Mama speaks first saying they had never heard of people doing this and washing feet and it sounded strange but then as it happened she saw Jesus and more specifically saw different aspects in each of us as we washed her feet – compassion, joy, knowledge, patience-in me she saw love…Whoa humbling! When mama called me out by name to share all I could get out was how deeply I loved each of them. So deeply it hurt but that my love pales in comparison to the father’s love for them. And if I was brought here to remind them of his love then the pain was so worth it. One by one we shared. I want to hold on to the sweet words forever. Words like… I can’t believe Jesus could love me that much to wash my feet after what I’ve done… You were only here three weeks but it felt like years…. When you leave there will be an empty space that can’t be replaced..
I’m shook. flabbergasted. That we even remotely mirrored Jesus’ love to these incredible humans. That they saw any part of the father’s reflection in us during our time here. In spending time together, braiding hair, teaching Zumba, decorating for a quinceanera, praying, taking care of chores to give them time to be with the lord, singing or just washing dishes.
Uffdah – little did I know that a year or so ago when I signed up for the race and said here’s my life lord send me what that really translated to was ‘here’s my heart lord…wreck it willy-nilly however you please in the reckless pursuit of your children’ TBH had I seen that fine print I still would’ve signed on to this wild adventure tearful goodbyes included.
