I come home to towering maize and children that have grown almost as fast. Sitting with my little Nura Aba cuddled in my arms, her chubby 2 year old cheeks that earned her the nickname Boquet (cheeks) slimming out of babyhood into little-girlhood and there is an ache. I want to stop time. I want to wake up every day and be her mama just like this.
I have been here 5 years. That means 2 years longer than I need to be to start sharing my last name legally with some of my brood. They all have it anyway and I would hate to distinguish but part of me aches. Each day it deepens and I wonder things like wisdom and timing and long term decisions. More questions than answers and part of me aches to share my name with just one, but I know I could not stop there. And what about the rest? I am mama to them too, all of them. Does a name make you any more what you are?
I walk across compound and they call. Mama. I know the cadence. I know the timbre. I know the sound of their voices. “Mama,” Danieli. He is the sweet slight tentative one, unless he is a running projectile launched at full speed. “Mama,” Boquet. She always emphasizes her first syllable. “Mama,” Vikki Joy. She is the one with the giggle. I know their sound, their laughs, their cries. Would a name make them anymore part of me? My head says no, but try and convince my heart of that.
I watch the green growing things take root, start to bloom, burst forth into vegetables and flowers and fruit. The rains are full upon us and the ground is giving back finally. Walking in the moonlit silence tonight, maize double my height silhouetted by the night sky, I marvel.
This seed planting and growing thing is still new to me, city girl that I was. I am learning.
But this I know. There is a world of difference between sowing your seed and throwing it. Sowing is an intentional love act. Throwing is an unintentional reaction.
Giving, helping is a lot like sowing seed. I am learning we can’t throw our seed at the need here and *hope* it finds the right soil. We need to be intentional sowers, listening to our Papa in heaven.
He is looking for the kind of giving that is not guilt driven but the overflow of a hilarious heart. No compulsion only connection to Him and His desires.
He desires no child ever be without a home, without love, without nurture. But we received word of 2500 little lives being dumped like Thursday’s trash in our backyard. And His heart aches. If my heart aches for one or two, He aches for thousands.
And how will they ever come home unless we, unless I bring them? We all have a part to play.
Nura nestles deeper into my embrace and my heart aches to bring them all home, and common sense aside, even share my name with a few.
What does your connection with God’s heart lead YOU into today?
(Would you like to be a part of it all somehow? You can! There are lots of ways to help us bring home and care for His Promises Found.)