Its been 49 days since I left the race.
It feels like an eternity, but it also feels like I just got home yesterday.
I’m still having a really hard time adjusting to being back in the states. I slowly feel like I’m finding purpose here, but at the same time I also feel so apathetic and am struggling with fighting back against it. The race wasn’t easy, but it did simplify life quite a bit. Each place it was like God saying, “This is home now, take root, love these people well, press into me and pour into them.” And I did, I left my heart scattered behind me as I was uprooted and transplanted each month and country. People have been asking me to tell them about my trip and I honestly don’t know how. I don’t know where to begin or end, because I could talk for days about the people and places I fell in love with and the numerous ways Jesus revealed himself and his heart for me and his people. I don’t know how to let anyone here do life with me now it seems, because now I have to go out of my way to find community instead of being thrown head first into constantly being with community. I have to fight for it here, and I feel like nobody is fighting for me here, fighting for me to be their community too.
Today I’m riding in the car, for about 8 hours, on my way to Maryland with my best friend for the weekend. As I was scrolling through Facebook earlier, I saw a post from New Life Children’s Home in Honduras, the place where I lived and ministered my last month of the race. It was sweet Fernanda’s 11th birthday yesterday! Seeing her smiling face sliding across my news feed made me quickly fall into a pile of memories and I thought I’d take a moment to share them with you.
Fernanda was one of my favorites at the orphanage in Honduras. She has such a sweet and gentle spirit but loves to laugh. She also has a little brother Miguel that I’ve shared photos and little stories about on my Facebook page. They’re both mischievous and have smiles that light up a room.
One evening we were riding in the van back from town with several of the girls who had been to a birthday party. Now if you’re at all familiar with the way people overseas pack into vehicles, you won’t be surprised that there were probably 25 of us in this 15 passenger van and most of my team had some of the little girls sitting on our laps. Fernanda was sitting with me and Yenni was sitting beside me. At the orphanage several of the kids had lice, and if you know me, you also know I’m terrified of getting lice, because I mean can you imagine the pain it would be to try and get rid of them with my crazy mane of curly hair? Anyways, one of the best ways to prevent us from getting lice was simply to keep from putting our heads near the kids heads.
As I sat holding Fernanda, she put her head on my shoulder and started to fall asleep. I thought to myself, “Oh no. . . what if she has lice?” Then almost immediately was rebuking myself for thinking so selfishly. It dawned on me, that it didn’t matter.
Lice didn’t matter.
What mattered was making sure that even if it was only for the hour long ride in the car, that this little girl, who didn’t know the love of parents, felt loved and safe while in my arms.
I spent the rest of the ride covering her with prayer, and holding her close. I pray that she will know the endless, relentless love of the Savior, her Heavenly Father. I know that He has a plan and hope for her future, and I cling to that for her and the other children at New Life Children’s Home.
I didn’t get lice while in Honduras, but I would have gladly taken a head full of lice if that meant that even one of those children came to have a relationship with Jesus.
I miss those kids. I think of them so frequently, with reminders all around of their joyful spirits and eager laughter. Photos on my walls, bracelets on my arms, so many memories in my heart.
Fernanda and several of the other children at New Life celebrating Fernanda’s birthday! (Photo from New Life)
Fernanda’s 6 year old brother Miguel at New Life Children’s Home.
