And allow GOD to move.
She didn’t come running. She didn’t give a smile freely or too easily. She didn’t follow me. She didn’t talk too much. She didn’t laugh. But my time with her was precious. It was meaningful. I didn’t expect anything in return. I wanted nothing from her. But I wanted her to know she is important, she is noticed. Her name is Lucia and she is seven. She feels alone and does not easily trust. And so I sat with her. We began drawing pictures together and that is what we shared. But it took time before this interaction took place. Yet I was content in just sitting with her. As long as it took, I was willing and honored to just be present with her.
She is one of the many children living at the Remar Center. This is an international organization for those who are facing drug rehabilitation. But here, in Swaziland, it has also become a shelter for those who were removed from their homes because of physical, mental, and sexual abuse. My heart aches for those who have been used and mistreated. They aren’t quick to swarm around us, our trust must be earned, our patience is tested, and I understand more of what it means to trust GOD to move, for I can do nothing of my own strength and wisdom to comfort such brokenness.
