finding the gem...

Waking up throughout the night to my very snotty congested babe, having to soothe her, whisper love into her ears…then waking up bleary eyed when the older two slip into my room and cuddle me for but a moment before they beg for cereal.

 Managing breakfast, making coffee, putting in laundrey, all while holding my clingy sick babe. Wiping her nose more times than I can count and wishing someone how I could wave a wand and dry up this drainage.

 Pulling out my fall/winter clothes from under our guest bed and shaking.so.many.bugs from my clothes. Ewwwwwwww. Lots of shrieking. Drew running in with foam swords and his two wide eyed princesses in awe of his bravery.

 Having to process, weigh our plans for the day, change, re-arrange and decide how we manage sick kids, wanting to visit, not pushing them or ourselves.

 Jumping in the car and heading up to visit the women I love. Driving up a busy mountain road in a little tooter car that is a stick. Let’s just say :complete engagement. Not a moment of coasting…shifting, swerving, honking, stopping, accelerating…phew. Definatley felt like a video game.

 First visit was a bust as my friend was asleep and sick. Sigh. All the effort to come and show up and be and she is not able to even engage. She falls asleep as she asks me how my kids are.

 I decide to adventure and go find a woman Dave and I had prayed for, feeling vulnerable…what if she was not healed… what if she is still full of sadness… what if what felt like a moment of bringing hope and healing was washed away by the stress of their lives...

 Driving all around on crazy town roads to find her. Getting lost and driving in farm land, through new, different refugees camps.  Starting to pray and then to sing…singing that God’s heart for hope, healing, breakthrough is greater than mine.  Filled with love, filled with purpose, filled with vision to give away from the treasures of the kingdom inside of me.

 When I find her camp, I walk slowly to her home, realizing I don’t know if she is the mother of the house, what her name is. I stumble over words as some children greet me and tell me she is coming.

 She sees me and lights up with Joy. I greet her and in my nervous, vulnerable place I immediately ask her if her she can still hear from her ear. She just offers for me to come in. I have to ask again, I don’t know if she has heard me. A second time she invites me in.

 We walk in and sit down, all the children gather round. When we sit down she is smiling and when I ask a third time, hoping my nervousness or language has been the reason she has not answered. She looks at me and exclaims in string of praising God…she can still hear. I try not to be to shocked, I ask- really? A miracle? She agrees and launches into another string of praising God and says she could not hear and now she hears.

 I sit there. I join her in praising God, tears rush into my eyes as my thankfulness fills my heart and it feels as though it could burst. He does see her, He sees the refugees, He knows their plight and wants to come down in their brockeness and touch them.

After this moments my day is eclipsed by this golden lighting…the reality that He has done miracles and there are more to come. I visit other friends…I drive home in the dark…I sing loudly in the car…I am belting out “nothing is hidden from your sight, wherever I go You find me, You know every detail of my life, You don’t miss a thing…” as I drive through a military checkpoint to get home.

  I walk into my happy home and get rushed by my 2-almost-3 year old. My babe hears my voice and reaches for me. I slip into mama mode and gather the girls around, throw a blanket down and a candle and tell them “around the campfire let’s talk about our day”. I look into their sparkling eyes and faces and hear their summaries and then tell them about the miracle I heard about. That Jesus healed a deaf ear. Wow.