I anticipate these moments,
but never quiet find myself prepared for them in the end.
Week twelve.
The end of month three,
a quarter of the race done
Moments were marked by homesickness-
a birthday missed
thanksgrieving
the feeling, "all we ever do is say goodbye"
It was a week of prayer filled moments-
prayers for innocence,
pleas for protection,
petitioning on behalf of those who steal my heart.
I sat with three sisters-
in a bamboo home,
that swayed when the wind blew,
and we cried tears of gratitude.
Moments of glory met me where they always do-
in the least of these,
in the unlikely,
in the [hands, laughter, joy] of a child.
I cried with my team-
and it didn't fix anything.
And that's what I needed,
to be perfectly broken and longing for Heaven-
without expectation or resolution or justification.
These were begin again moments-
reunions and reluctant goodbyes,
within twenty four hours.
And in the final Cambodian moments-
a family moment,
a victory moment,
another War Eagle moment.
