of thoughts. scribbling them out in paper, prob post some but for now I just want to say. I am grateful for hard painful truth. for the strange way it gives solid comfort where pretty, nice, but not so much true words leave a bitter taste in my mouth. give me a sword to swing and I will fight to see light. but don't tell me the dragon is in my head. nor that the fight will not draw blood, lest I be overcome.

dang I hate when I get all metaphorical and make no sense.

{updating hours later}
memories flood. Україна. sitting on the cement. several age 8- 12-looking like 8-10 under-nourished children scramble for crafts. they seem happy to have colours, glitter, markers. their faces are hungrier than thier stomachs. hungry for newness, for beauty; mostly for attention. hungry to be noticed. "good job!" & a hug. enough to light up one of those faces. (how rare is affirmation in this place...how can they have a concept of their value?)
I am smiling & praising & hugging & being hugged. but I am aching. overwhelming ache in my heart. tight ache in the back of my throat where liquid heartbreak waits to spill forth. sharp ache in my mind as it struggles to reconcile the reality of God's truth with this place.
what. am I doing?
how can I possibly convey how beautiful they are, these little souls? how can I impress on them their worth...when there is not even a framework of such concepts here. God what good am I really doing? How can they see Your love in 7 short eternal days? How can I tell them You are good? How can this make a difference when I have to leave?

I don't know the answers. But I know God is the same in Ukraine as He is here. I know His love is more perfect, deep & true than mine. {{therefore I know God's heart has cracked greater than mine. I leave. But there is a dedicated team of Ukrainians who will stay in touch. I know my prayers aren't pointless. God sees the orphan. I know there was sheer joy on the faces of children where it might not have shone without us. I know God saves. I know God works through small frail people like me.

so I am going back. (hoping)
going back to hug littles who have probably been hit more than held. Going to bring a smile to tough lil boys whose own smiles are broken. Going to befriend older girls & be amazed at their grace. Going to look innocence-stolen children in the eye & be ashamed at what I think is "suffering" Going to listen to stories, to get beat up, to pray non-stop, to prob get peed & bled on. Going to fight for them. & believe if God has sent us; surely He will give Himself to these. Going to see things that make my heart bleed. Going to feel utterly helpless. Really, to *be* helpless...
I can't fix the system. I can't heal hearts, minds, bodies. I can't rescue. I can't bring them families or bring them home.
But I can love. I can give undivided positive attention. I can bring new clothes & give out gum. I can wrestle & lose at soccer. I can be patient. I can go, and ask God to give as much as myself as possible.

1 comment:

Abi said...