And

Brooklyn is 8. She is sweet and shy and quiet, but very bubbly once she decides you're ok to be around. She and her brother Sam are 2 of my very favorite kids in the whole world. Which is actually saying a lot because we know A LOT of kids. Right now she is going through things most adults could not handle, in a strange country with a strange language, with her amazing but completely exhausted Dad by her side and her mother 2 countries away. She has had IVs, transfusions, reactions, complications and more complications. People all over the world are praying for her and her family right now, and I know it is helping. They've seen miracles already in her care and their ability to get what she needs. Soon she will move to another hospital in yet another country, this one with wonderful care and even better her Mother and brother will join her there. She will even get to see our Pastor, who will arrive before her and prepare some things for the family's comfort. He's a deep well of love and concern and hard work all at once and I'm so glad we can send him.

And yet she is still so close to dying. Every little procedure that doesn't go smoothly; each hour she stays anemic or dehydrated or undernourished or her body is just overwhelmed. We are still begging the Great Physician to work miracle after miracle until it almost feels greedy. And because He loves us so fervently and purely, I trust and believe He will continue healing her. And yet I'm scared He may not. And frustrated to know she suffers so much, and her parents whom I love and admire suffer too. And I'm angry too, because why in the world would God call them so clearly to move to this place to do this work that so desperately needs doing, only to allow this horrible stage of their journey? Why? WHY? I don't understand it. I don't like it. I don't want to have keep waiting and weeping and waiting some more. I don't.

And then it hits me. I'm reminded and it brings comfort, albeit twisted backhand comfort. This is a broken, hurting world. And sweet Brooklyn and her family are just as subject to that brokenness and hurt as the rest of us. And none of it surprises God; he knows the hairs on her head and the freckles on her precious nose and the sparkle in her eye much better than we do. He knows what she needs and what her Daddy and her Mom need and what her tender-hearted brother needs too. HE knows. He has a plan and by His grace we'll see that plan unfold in ways none of us could imagine. So I breathe, and remind myself to be grateful for keeping her safe thus far instead of bitter she's on the journey at all. And I pray and join my friends in prayers and fasts and updates and more prayers all day and night. I think I have never in my life prayed this much for anyone, even myself. And I will not stop. Not until we hear she is healed, hydrated, happy and headed home. And just this once, I will lay my worries down at the foot of the cross with every prayer, with every breath and every step.

And it will all be enough for today. And tomorrow we'll do it again, because we love her so. And we know HE loves her so too.

Anger & Hope and everything in between

My dear friend's 8 year old daughter, Brooklyn, is currently in danger of dying from typhoid. They live in Sierra Leone, and her vaccine was apparently faulty because she got sick anyway. The update her Mom sent to our church this morning said her kidneys are shutting down so they're flying her to Ghana in the hopes of getting her stabilized and then moving her to London, but she added this sentence which has me praying and sobbing and angry and begging God to not let this come to be. "She's dying and won't make it." She had to write that about her precious little girl, less than 1 month after moving to a new country to help the fight against human trafficking. It is terrible.

I am heartbroken and just praying nonstop that God will intervene and miraculously heal her. It is all I can think about and I don't know what to do other than  pray and hold on to hope, especially since it sounds like her family cannot do that right now.

I have nothing else to say today.

I feel the need . . . the need for speed!

Name that movie.

Anyway, I feel the need to write but I have nothing to say. It's kind of funny actually, how often this happens to me. In the course of my day I am always thinking of things I want to blog about, or journal about or getting ideas for stories I could write; then something distracts me and when I actually sit down here to write I can't think of any of them.

The girls are resting and I checked a friends blog and she wrote the most beautiful post
about love and faith and how she wishes things could look different than they do now. I read it and thought "Yes! That is so true, that is exactly right, that is . . . what I wish I could write." Which made me realize something: I love to hear peoples' stories and thoughts much more than I love to write my own. I mean, I love to process things via writing and I do that a lot here, but what I REALLY REALLY love is listening to someone else. I love to hear the hearts of my friends and loved ones, and of those I only know from their blogs or some article a friend posts on facebook. I love to really listen and dig deep into what someone else has lovingly painstakingly written and just soak it all into my soul. I really really love it.

I wonder how I could do that more often? Is there a way to minister to others through listening--not like counselling, because that's not my strong suit--through just hearing what others have been through or are going through? Hmmm, I wonder.