everyday epiphanies

Morning greetings change in the dawn hours of a new nation.  I wake, set foot down on the dusty earth of answered prayer. A new day.  The first day of the rest of history.  I savor its mystery.

Falling leaves cup light, liquid gold spilling out to color ground beneath.  Amber rays fall soft around me before the sun rises high and hot in the dry season sky.  I drink in the coolness of the morning.  I drink in the silence of the light.  My brood of over 100 still quietly rising to meet this new day of grace.

I hear word the red ribbons last night in the sky took their toll.  Bullets land in tragic places; even unintentionally stealing away life before its time.  I am grateful for Papa’s protection of us all as we slept.  Even celebratory times here can turn dangerous, echo the war years we pray never return.

I step out my door, foot to ground, toes to soil, eyes pealed for His epiphanies waiting to be found while the Republic of South Sudan is still being washed of her afterbirth.  We greet eachother, she and I.  The answer to prayers I didn’t even know I prayed.

“Happy New Nation, Mama”  replaces the customary “Good morning- how was the night?”

Word also has come that there may be many, many more homeless, abandoned children being sent our way.  I lift up silent prayers for more grace, more of all we need.  There has always been enough.  Now we step out in faith for more than enough.

Mama Eudita, one of my heros, reminds me of His litany of gifts.  I mention to her in passing about the influx of need on the horizon.  A hint of concern furrows my brow.  It does not go unnoticed.  Her laugh rich and deep wraps itself around my heart reminding me of His faithfulness.  She recounts all His provision from the day I arrived almost five years ago, narrating my own story back to me.  Sometimes I need family to remind me of my own story, His story, His goodness.

Remember the time food multiplied… the time Vicki was healed… the time we lived with nothing in a bombed out shell of a building and now we have 40 acres of fertile land and a bed for every child… Remember.  Remember.  Remember. How could I forget these everyday epiphanies, these supernatural gifts of grace?  But sometimes still I do.  Even after writing them in books and journals and blogs, sometimes I still need reminding of the story.

Gold puddles around the edges of my day. I drink deep of His beauty…  Today, I am thankful for His gifts of:

  • A new nation being born
  • Being here as it was delivered
  • Soaking toes in amber light on my floor
  • Family to remind me of my own story
  • Remembering His faithfulness
  • Beled Sudani-Rabuna b’hilaju inta
  • Warm rich laughter
  • Surprise gifts of chocolate for valentine’s day
  • finding bleach in the market
  • 103 smiles
  • Happy NEW Nation morning greetings
  • A shared history in Jesus
  • You who read my ponderings and wanderings on this unpaved road into His heart