My Truth About Tired

Once again, it's been a while since I've posted; I really don't know why... Trying to put my finger on the reason I currently avoid a task I yearned for - writing about all God does in the lives we share in Kenya. Maybe my aversion to posting is due to the fact that we're winding down another year here, and it's time to take Tavin back to Pagoga to enroll him in 10th grade; I'm engaging in an "ignorant-bliss-thought-pattern" concerning the inevitable of leaving my son on the other side of the world.  Maybe I've not written because the constant influx of visitors, whom we LOVE, absorb our attention. Instead of writing posts, we spend our time watching them see God in the faces of the forgotten. Maybe I don't post because I constantly forget I use a wheelchair, that my muscles are tired. I'm tired. The reality is - chosen comforts allude those who cry out for the fatherless.

Yes, I'm tired; but, it's a content tired - the tired that knows I put in a good day. The connecting with widowed mamas and seeing them engage in ministry. The sweet closing of my eyes and seeing interns from stateside colleges and universities embrace the challenge of loving the unlovable. Knowing the peaceful certainty that God is moving in the miracle realm - not the miracles that happen in seconds, but the miracles God preforms over lifetimes - interconnecting passions, destinies with hopes that don't disappoint. Just speaking of these things makes me want to curl up under my mosquito net and slip into gentle thoughts of mercy and graceful justice, remembering daily experiences of wounded ones being restored.

I will never tire of the joys of hugging children rescued from pit latrines and lonely tea fields. Imagine watching the needs of those neglected - silent with crippled limbs and empty days - enjoy books and colors so they can learn about God's great glories of friendship and belonging. Helping widowed mamas know their ability to raise their children. Sharing with Kenyan churches about missions and adoption. These things inspire me to know that even in my weariness, Jesus carries me. All I am, all I do belongs to Him.

I think I haven't written because I've come to a place where words don't work. I can't find the way to bring you here on paper; so, I leave the keyboard quiet and embrace the work God set before me. I'm grateful for that honor, that privilege. Thank you, Dear Ones, for helping us love the least of these.

 

 
 

 

 

 

 
Asante sana for your encouragement, support and prayers.

hugs from the haugers Ooo0