Toys scatter over the red and grey cement floor, crumbs from a snack are left on the wooden countertop. Little stockings and tiny t-shirts, pants and underwear hang upon the close line stretched from one side of the house to the other. Bubbles fly from the stove as tortillas lay amongst the oil. Ants align the crevasses of the cabinet as they make their way toward the open bag of tortillas laying out on the table. Pots and pans selfishly take up the counter space, leaving just enough room to fit the ingredients to make the final masterpiece. Different shaped blankets and two cabinets separate the kitchen and walk in area from the two beds that give rest to five humans. The panels that cover the metal bars rattle as the wind strikes it furiously.
Her red fingernails comb through his curly blonde hair, his head slowly moves toward her as his neck relaxes into her thigh. Her hand continues to stroke his head as praises overflow from her lips. I look at my friend Han and smile at her as she strums away at the guitar. I look to the left and see Johnny and Ten fooling around like they are brother and sister. His eyes twinkle when my smile and glance catches his attention. To the right, the beautiful Val quietly places food on 14 plates. The room overflows with old worship songs, accompanied with giggles coming from baby Erin’s mouth. Little feet leave and hit the floor as the little one jumps up and down clapping his hands to the sound of the music. Our smiles are intwined together as the seven of us sing fearlessly into the moon lit night.
Within in these four little walls enclosed a tender memory, a moment in time where all of our worries seized, a moment in time where all of our anxieties about life were trapped outside the walls, not welcomed in. A moment that was held in the hands of the Heavenly Father. A moment that will remain one of my favorite memories on the race thus far.
My heart sinks as I glance at the green door, nothing in me wants to turn my back to the blindly atoned atmosphere. Though these four walls don’t hold a lot of things, they do indeed withhold much love, joy, laughter, and the sweet smell of plantains cook’n on the stove. The walls are my blanket, they give me a warm hug in the midst of the night. The hour strikes and I make my way toward the door. My chin touches my chest as I look at my right foot step into their dirt filled tire staircase. I don’t want to walk away from these humans, I don’t want to wave at them, I don’t want to give away that last squeeze. Nothing in me wants to see their beloved faces get gradually smaller and smaller as we drive away.
I don’t want to leave these four walls.
God gives us gifts and some seemingly last longer than others. God has given me two new brothers, a new sister, and another mother. I love them so much, my care for them runs deep, I delight in all the beautiful moments God has given me with them. My team and I leave the country of Honduras tomorrow evening and I can’t stop thinking about them. I’m so grateful that I could meet them and share this season of life with them. I have cherished the gift of brotherhood and fellowship with these guys in the past two months, I’ve gotten to spend many hours with these goofballs. I love laughing with them.
Though the four walls seem scary to leave, I walk on and I take heart, I press on into the unknown steps the Lord places before me. I trust in his faithfulness for the goodness of the Lord has and will follow me for all the days of my life (Psalms 23:7). I hold fast onto the truth that this will not be the last time I will be with these sweet souls. One day, there will be a family reunion, one where I will get to embrace my two litter brothers, my sweet younger sister and dear older sister. I trudge on and don’t let my head stay fixed on the sorrow and grief. I fix my eyes on the spirit, on the heavenly one. I look up to the King of Kings and thank him with my hands raised for such a wonderful gift. A gift that I’ve experienced before and one that I will continue to experience, for I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever (Psalm 23:7).
Im not gonna sugar code it, it sucks and it’s hard. Tears have been shed and memories flood back as I look through pictures of my time here. I ask that you would pray for my eyes to be fixed on the spirit and not the flesh, that i’ll choose all of these things I listed above.
I choose to live in the light of eternity; one day I will be enclosed, hand in hand, in the same walls with my siblings, praising the Lord Almighty. In that, I rejoice.
