America:
Her hands were warm and comfortable as they postured mine into her lap. Small oceans of joy and pain filled her eyes as she told me how proud she was of me. I leaned in and felt the warm tears of hers latch on to my cheek.
I felt comfortable. I felt vulnerable. I felt everything & nothing at the same time.
It was insanely difficult to let go of my mother’s hand and leave for a year. Yet, everything in me had already packed its bags and was standing in line to board.
India:
Her hands were small. Her entire fists swallowed my pinky as she tugged with the strength of 10 children. She made out the words “what is your name?” as she smiled a toothy grin. Her eyes were bold and beautiful, her heart completely overjoyed. I combed her hair out of her face and came down to her level. She was something else. Her zeal for life was evident and the power of Jesus was painted across her face, across this village.
I felt blessed. I felt unqualified. I felt everything & more at the same time.
It was insanely difficult to see the good in a person and not invest all my time into them, but that’s not the point.
We are planting seeds. We are loving a person, one at a time, until the kingdom of God is fully on earth. As much as it hurt to say goodbye, it hurts more knowing that there’s so much work to do.
Now:
This month I had to switch hands. The hands that loved me, to the hands that want to give love.
Thank you to my family for pouring out what real love looks like, continue to pray that this same love can be spread daily to every individual who crosses our paths.
Every person. Every day. Love them all.
