I caught this glimpse of my kids out the window yesterday. There’s yellow stuff falling from the sky and his eyes were itchy and she was giving him eye drops. She had asked me for them. I knew what she was doing. And it was adorable.
I saw them and remembered the goodness of God to give them each other. And then was caught by the memory of another set of siblings I met in Kenya nine years ago.
It was the last day of our clinic in the village and two little kids were just walking around. No adult was with them. They were alone. We asked if anyone knew them or knew whose children they were. We were told that the mom, who was a single mom, went to work all day and they were left to themselves. She had no one to watch them. We, my fellow volunteers and I, made sure they were taken care of that day. And that’s when we realized that the little one, who was probably two years old, was burning up with a fever. The doctor thought it was probably malaria which required a medicine regimen. But there was no one to give the medicine to except his four-year-old brother.
Imagine that. A two-year-old and a four-year-old left to fend for themselves all day. I cried so hard that day. Knowing my two-year-old was an ocean away and was well taken care of. Knowing that although her skin looked like theirs, her reality was drastically different. Her privileges were mounting compared to theirs. And it hurt so bad.
I was so young when I took those trips around the world. I had no clue what God was doing in my life. Honestly, I didn’t even know where He was during those years. The pain from my infertility was so huge and it blinded me to everything. I had good things- a patient husband and this beautiful baby and my family- but I hurt so bad. So I ran.
I ran across oceans and into villages and natural disaster sites. I ran to rescue others because I couldn’t rescue myself. I ran to give others medicine because I couldn’t find what would heal me. I ran to pray with others even though my faith felt like it was on life support.
And He saw my running. He saw me in Kenya and Haiti and Uganda. He saw me with the mom whose family had shunned her when her son was born with Down Syndrome. He saw me when I cried with her. He saw me. He saw me when that mama in Haiti described how she had been trapped for four days after the earthquake and how she prayed for someone to rescue her. Her rescue came but it was too late for her eight-year-old son. He saw me and He saw her and I’m sure He held her son.
Today, while I’m living this life in the country with these two amazing kids and my still patient husband, I’m reminded of my ever-patient Father. Even when I ran, He pursued my heart. Even when all I wanted to do was escape from my pain, He was there in the midst of it. He never stopped pursuing me and He never will.
This is one of those posts where honestly I don’t know what the point is. It’s just my attempt to string together words to show a Him how thankful I am. I do not deserve anything I’ve been given in this life. But He sees me as worthy. And even the things that I still question. Even the things that I’m still uncertain about- He knows. He knows all of it. And my questions and my uncertainty are not scary to Him.