Tried to go to prayer meeting down the road today, first attempt in weeks. Only one vehicle has fuel left, though we have searched far and wide. Finally, everybody in, 7 kids age ten and under, dressed, in shoes, buckled, snacks, bug spray, ready to go.
Dead battery (told you we haven’t driven anywhere in weeks). After several issues, got it jumped, everyone back in and back on track, 20 minutes late.
Make it two miles down the muddy, broken-barricaded, horrific “road” and the sky ahead is thick with black smoke and the way is blocked and crowded and hot.
Home again, home again, weeks on end, and a precious gallon of fuel wasted and ABOVE ALL it threatens your very. last. nerve.
I look across the wet yard as we unload and the students are innocently playing soccer in their bare feet, their priceless, sparse-lately, laughter bouncing off the walls...and I am angry.
I want to sternly announce "ENOUGH!”...but that only works at my house. I want to fix it—all of it—for everyone, like I fix it in my kitchen, with chicken and dumplings on nights Lily’s struggling and it’s SOLVED.
My anger makes me realize that I want to be encouraged by something MORE than God’s Word. By something other than His beautiful people. By something other than His provision and protection. By something other than the continued creative and impressive resourcefulness of everyone around us. By something other than His sweet presence and rich love. By something MORE than His promises. More than all we already have...
...realizations which quickly pile up in my hands, and push the anger I was holding upon His feet—the best place—for no one needs it.
Haiti needs no more anger, for it has burned many roads that could have led us forward.
This is HIS house. He will silence it, or comfort it, when and as He will.
I must wait on the Lord. While I do, darn it, I will keep handing out the overflow of His Word, His rich love, His provision and protection, His courage, His promises...the abundant light that pushes out the darkness.
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