Sunset and dusk have already passed. We’re all hanging out
in our bunks, enjoying some down time and the chance to have legitimate
internet. For whatever reason, I grab my Bible, journal and headlamp, throw on
my flip flops and head outside. The porch of the clinic here at Vision Nicaragua has become a spot I
like to sit and journal, but I didn’t quite make it that far. Walking outside
of the lit pavilion, the brightness of the stars is overwhelming. So of course,
I lay down in the grass.
Random memory as I lie there and stare up at the
brilliance and blackness – sometime in my childhood, while living in Quartz
Hill on two and a half acres. Dad’s flatbed trailer for the tractor was parked
in front of the feed shed for some reason. I have no idea how this happened,
but Mom, Garrett and I ended up spending the night in sleeping bags on top of
the trailer. I remember not sleeping much that night. There was a lot of
staring up at the stars, wondering, letting my mind wander. At some point, it
felt like two in the morning but was probably more like ten or eleven, I voiced
a question to whoever was listening, which ended up being my mom. “Do you
really believe there is a God?�
I don’t remember the answer or any deep discussion that may
or may not have followed. But as I lay in the grass in the middle of some
village in Nicaragua and move back to that memory, it seems to be a reminder of
a God who pursues; a God who, at least over the last fifteen years of my life
since that time, has been faithful, even when I have not been. It’s a reminder
that in times I may not feel God is close, He’s still been there, He’s still
right here and He’ll still be here.
