Juggler of words and children…collector of pottery shards
I took my journal from two years ago into the van this morning. The kids were all strapped into their seats when I turned around and began to read the entry from December 13, 2005. They know the story but they listened attentively anyway.
Two years ago today….
All was dark.
Two years ago today…
Hope was thin.
Two years ago today, I sat in the bathroom floor of a house in Haiti writing in my journal. While my husband and new daughters slept, I pushed exhaustion, fear and despair away for just a few moments to meet with God. Christmas was close and the guest house where we were staying had a small tree lit in the living room. It was so hot and every night the rains came, beating against the open, louvered windows and snuffing out the electricity for awhile.
I sat in the bathroom floor with my journal propped on my knees with a flashlight near and recorded just badly things were progressing and precisely how broken my heart was to think that my oldest daughter’s papers would not be complete and we would find it necessary to return her to the orphanage to wait longer still. It had already been two years…
This morning, I finished reading aloud to my children and closed the journal. “More tomorrow…” I said as they begged for the rest of the story they know so well.
Especially her. She grinned and from her car seat in the back of the van pleaded to hear the end. She wanted me to say it all again.
God did the impossible two years ago. He moved mountains and she came home.