My Savior and my God, teach me to meet every opportunity in the fullness of You - to face every joy and sorrow in the fullness of You - to begin and end every day in the fullness of You - to live wherever I am in the fullness of You. Amen.
Today was my last full day in Africa, oh dearest God, and already I am heartsick to have left. I should very much like to live the rest of my life and not have to say another goodbye. Sounds rather like a slightly pathetic country song, doesn’t it? But it’s true. I have an entire castle-full of people - Americans, Africans, Canadians, Brits, and so many more - that I’d like to have about me the entire time. And, so, again my thoughts turn towards Home. Some day . . .
In the meantime . . . We spent a large part of this, our last day in Africa, in solitary boredom. What a horrid feeling, but it’s true. Without the slightest hint of an agenda to occupy our otherwise sadly somber minds, we sat and wished for people who couldn’t be there. Is this what people do in nursing homes and jails? To make matters worse, LeeAnn, our sole remaining fearless leader (Miriam, our other fearless leader, flew out a couple days ago), left for several hours on a visit to see her sponsor child. She was understandably thrilled about the opportunity, and, to be sure, we tried our very sincerest to be thrilled with her. Only, we couldn’t all of us fit in the car, so she left, and we were left.
And that’s how a late breakfast and a couple long hours of nothingness found us. Finally, in utter desperation, Jon, Candice, and I escaped the compound to take a walk down the hill, around to the left in a big arc, and then back up the hill again. When we discovered that no lunch had been prepared for us at the guest house, we had another adventure eating at a local restaurant. One hour killed; an eternity to go. Each step and every breath is the breathtaking Africa that has captured my heart, but I am counting down the moments now, and it is not a very happy process.
Then John Paul came late this afternoon, and it was like the sun suddenly sprang out from behind glowering clouds. For a precious, too-short time this evening, he added some much-needed laughter to a group full of frowning Westerners, cross with having to say goodbye. I look at where I am right now, and I think the best thing in all the world would be if I could simply rip up my plane ticket and remain right here where I am. In Africa. This joy denied is hard for me to accept. But, dear God, are You not in control? Do You not know the plans You have for me, and are they not good plans? Father, change my sore heart into a spring of praise to You - for all You’ve done, for all You are, for all You’ve been to me. I have been refreshed here by my African brothers and sisters in Christ, and You have brought overflowing effortlessly out of me a deep compassion and devotion for the dear children.
I thank You, God, that even if today I had to say goodbye, it was not a final goodbye. I thank You that I never have to say a final goodbye to my family in Christ. God, these dear people are the joy of my heart, the light of my eyes. If it were not for You, I could not leave them. As it is, Jesus, hold my heart. As You hold their hands and guide them, as You guide me . . . “Here I am, lay me down/ All my tears at Your feet/ Take it all, every breath/ Every single heartbeat . . . Wrap me up in Your arms/ You are my only Home/ So secure here with You/ I am never alone.” Dear God, take all my dreams - all I am - and use them for the glory of Your Name. Above all else, my Lord, this is my desire. Be glorified in me. Lead me on in the light . . . in this path, where the sun shines golden, though there may be tears of dew on the roses . . . My heart belongs ever first and foremost to You, King of kings. Love of my life, lead on.
