morelia & evansville: two worlds apart

To the little heart that sits inside your bones,

I love you and I will not let go.

Long ago, you mastered the art of packing your bags, but you still would walk up to check them with trepidation that they would be overweight.

Long ago, you found peace in the busyness of airports and waiting at your gate.

Long ago, you stumbled upon a country that was just another place on a map and you, my insecure girl who used to hide behind the pages of books, you would settle in for more than just a winter’s night.

Long ago, you would hold close to the chocolate-eyed children, the ones hungry for more than just food, the ones in dire need of love. And you would fear the goodbyes and the return flight.

You would be the güera, the one that would spend years loving in the orphanage, the open air and the first NOE. You would be the lone gringa accompanied by sweet students that quickly turned into family and friends and you, my love, you would learn how to stay.

You found parts of yourself there that you surely would have never found elsewhere.

And now you are braving, you are trying to brave the transition…very similar to the transition that once took you there.

And here’s what I need you to know…

To the little heart that sits inside your bones, to the little heart that quakes because what once was familiar has now turned into the unknown.

I love you and I will not let go.

Here and now, you stand at the top of the ramp, you share good mornings and hugs, and sometimes all you are greeted with is a smile and a shrug.

Here and now, you see hunger, too. It’s a hunger for more than just food.

Little brown, blue, black eyes stare at you and at times question your willingness to give up your sweaters, your time and your lunch. And they never are asking for too much.

They look for you in the halls and they scream out your name in delight; they hug you, and they hold onto you real tight.

Little ones come up to you and spill out the day’s events in Spanish; they look to you, because they know that your love is one that stays, it is not one that can easily vanish.

Here and now, your heart is compelled to pray for the ones here and the darling ones that sit 2000 miles away. Here and now, you see the needs that are keeping you, here to stay.

Your burden for the children, my love, isn’t solely kept on the field.

The call to love isn’t something that you can refuse to yield.

So in the meantime, in this time of transition, when you are reeling at what it means to “just be.”

I want you to understand that the best thing that you can do is just LOOK TO ME.

I am the same God here, as I was there.

I know that missions is a call on your heart, a steady beating that rests within your bones, and I am not asking you to give it up.

Instead, I am asking you to carry on.

The 5:30 wake-up call is cause to remember that there are sweet little ones that need your love here, too. The 5:30 wake-up call is cause to remember that I am still not done with you.

Your burden for the children, my love, isn’t solely kept on the field.

The call to love isn’t something that you can refuse to yield.

Love, transitions are tough, but I AM ENOUGH.