By Alanna

            Some days, South Africa seems so close. When I trace my fingers over the world map on the wall, and it’s just an ocean and a continent away. Just two plane flights from here. It seems close when I say goodbye to one more person going there, and realize that in just 24 hours they will be entering the TLC gate. It’s in moments like these that I think, ‘why not?’ Why not just buy a ticket, hop on the plane, and get off where my heart could meet up with my body again?

            There’s a myriad of reasons of course, and my head always reminds me. This is where God wants me to be. I’m doing the things He’s called me to do, at least for right now and right here. I’m grateful for time spent with my family, a job I love, and late night fellowship with friends here. I’ve also realized more and more lately that for the thing He’s put deepest on my heart, this is the best place to be. I’m praying, hoping, preparing. And to do that I have to be here in the U.S.A., at least for now.

            So my head reminds my heart, but my heart is tired of hoping and waiting. I need reminders that God is worthy- worthy of my hope and trust being placed solely in Him. He is worthy to carry these burdens, to accept this in surrender. Still these thoughts plague me though. What if the ram isn’t provided? All this climbing the mountain and stretching out the sacrifice, all the time hoping and praying that God returns it to me. And what if He doesn’t?  

            Tonight I blew dandelion seeds with a blonde two-year old in her front yard. I told her that we needed to make wishes, and I used all my breaths to wish a little boy home. Wishes, prayers, hope. It’s all I have lately. That and the solid rock of God’s trustworthiness. I believe that He alone is able to bear this sorrow, this grief that some days looks never ending. This hope that splits me in two because it’s so big and so absolutely terrifying. He takes good care of what we entrust to Him- our lives, our futures, our todays and tomorrows, our grief, our hope, our hearts, and our children. After we blew dandelions, we lay in the dark and I sang her to sleep with truth. A song I used to sing always to the little ones in South Africa, in the familiar warmth of the Lions room, where my dreams remain. In these verses I find reminders of His trustworthiness.

I hear the Savior say
 ‘thy strength indeed is small
child of weakness, watch and pray
 find in Me thine all in all’
Jesus paid it all
all to Him I owe.
Sin had left a crimson stain
He washed it white as snow