I walked through the dreary rain out toward my little red car. My arms full of dirty towels and my coffee cup. I’d just spilled half of the coffee down the front of my dress. I dumped the dirty towels into the back seat of the car and turned to look through the gloom at the tall brick building, It’s dim light barely penetrating.
And I thought “I still can’t believe I’m this blessed”.
It’s crazy. I think sometimes I must be crazy. Why and how can the most chaotic parts of my life make me feel the most blessed?
It wasn’t because I was comparing my life to theirs – these lovely broken children.
It was because I couldn’t believe I was the one privileged to be here.
The one to see the brokenness.
The one to feel the pain.
The one who cries herself to sleep because why is no one caring about the kids?
It’s a privilege.
Most of the time they hide the hurt under toughness and bravado.
I am blessed to see the pain.
I’m blessed too because sometimes, in tiny glimpses, I see God.
And I see that he can.
He can heal the hurt.
He can wipe the tears.
He can bring hope to the hopeless.
It’s in the overheard conversation “I was so scared, but you know what? I prayed…”
“Yeah, I said ‘God please help me'”.
And I know that a year ago this child would never have thought to pray no matter what was happening.
I see it in the angry young man who stalks up and down the road to calm himself and yet when we gather in a circle to sing he sings loudly “We’ve got the power in the name of Jesus”.
And I know, that no matter where he chooses to go from here. No matter where life may lead, those words are now graven deep in his heart. I believe God will let those words follow him, perhaps even haunt him. And I am thankful.
I am so blessed.
What is more blessed than to be the face, the hands, that come to the mind of a child, when they think of Jesus.
“Whooo loves you?”
Those were the words on the owl craft tonight. We pulled the wings apart to see the answer.
I put my arms around the angry child. “Put it in your bedroom,” I whispered. “then you can always look at it and think ‘Jesus loves me!’ because he does”.
She stared straight ahead, not looking at me but I saw her go out the door with the owl in her hand.
Jesus loves her.
And when she finally understands, he can take away her anger and heal her tiny broken heart.