Sunday night. The eve of the day that I would celebrate completing nineteen years of life. I cried, a whole lot. I cried because I was more homesick than I can ever remembering being. I cried because I didn’t want to spend my birthday without my parents or brothers or friends. I cried because even though I’m never alone on the Race ((thanks buddy rule!!)), I felt incredibly lonely.
Monday morning. I walked out of our bedroom to find our house exploding with colored streamers. My face broke out into a grin as I approached the kitchen table which had been set with warm pancakes, fruit salad, cold coffee, fried eggs, and sweet birthday notes from each of my teammates. We sat around for two hours chatting, musing, and laughing because my team knows that I appreciate breakfast food and slow mornings.
After the dishes were cleared away and all the honey ((so much better than syrup, lemme tell ya)) had been wiped off the table, I realized that I hadn’t felt the least bit sad on the day that I had been dreading. I hadn’t felt sad because the Lord poured out His love through the six girls that I live with. They made me feel celebrated and loved and I praise Him for each one of them.
Monday late afternoon. My teammate, Nata, and I were making bacon avocado burgers for dinner and as we fought our portable, two burner stove to turn on ((that stove could be a whole blog post in and of itself)), we heard a knock and a tiny voice say “Patty?!” ((pronounced Pah-TEEEE)). I opened the door to find roughly seventeen of the kids, who live in the orphanage next to our house, standing on our front porch. They presented me with a “Happy Birthday” sash and then danced around singing to me.
Once again, the Lord drenched me in His love.
Monday night, right before dinner. I was helping my little friend Boitamelo put on her pajamas and then was heading back to our house when it started to rain. Not pour, not drizzle, just rain. The gentle kind that makes you want to dance… so that’s what we did. For twenty minutes, my teammates, about six of the kids, and I spun in circles as lightning illuminated the sky, thunder rumbled, and fat drops of rain dampened our skin. The funny thing is, it hadn’t rained since we’d been in Lesotho and it hasn’t rained since. But for twenty minutes we got to soak ((quite literally)) in the Lord’s provision. Provision not simply in a physical sense but from an emotional standpoint as well. Dancing is freeing and joyful and a perfectly appropriate way to celebrate turning nineteen.
Monday night, part two. Full tummies and smiling faces sat around our table. I turned around to find a chocolate cake with lit candles moving toward me and my ears were drowned in a “Happy Birthday” tune. I’d tell you my wish but then it wouldn’t come true.
Monday. It wasn’t so bad after all. I laughed, belly laughed, a lot. I was hugged a lot. I was sung to a lot. The Lord showed me his love in countless ways. It wasn’t a traditional birthday, it wasn’t how I imagined turning nineteen but it was perfect because I was surrounded by simple love.
Also — for everyone in the States, enjoy the fall weather for me because I miss it lots!!
All my love, P.
