Like a child

This month has been hard.  I feel like my heart is breaking over these shootings.  I feel like screaming at the world over Congo, where things like that and worse are happening literally nonstop.  I feel like crying at the money I have sitting and waiting…enough for three women to start a new life in Congo, but they can’t because it’s too dangerous for them to meet right now.  That’s never happened since I started this journey, and it is really hard for me to deal with inside.

I feel upside-down inside.  I feel like I don’t fit where I thought I did, and where I knew I didn’t I feel like I fit even less.  The world is crazy.  Matt and I’s plans keep changing beyond our control, and though I have faith that it will be right, I feel a little lost some days.  In the midst of this intense, burning world, I have six little girls who look to me for answers and for life.

So at night, I stay up late because I can’t really sleep anyway right now, and I work.  I am tired and I am sad.  But I want this Christmas so badly.  I need it.  I need to give them a quiet, restful place.  Because every time we step out the door, the storm rages.  But in this home, I am determined.  The storm will stop at the door.

They will be aware and they will be educated.  They will be wise and they will learn it all.

But in this home, in this place, they will be allowed to be children.

They will have one sacred place where they are completely safe, completely loved, and their childhood and their dreams are guarded like the sacred gifts they are.

For Christmas this year, I am giving them a dream.  A special place.  A sanctuary.  Since they look at the pictures on my blog, I can’t show it yet, but I can’t wait.

At night, things are quiet and my heart cries for the mommas and the babies who hurt.  My heart aches at the world that wants to steal all that is precious from my children.  So I sit and I work and I pass all my love into the wool and felt and cotton until sleep comes.

While I work, I think of my own life and my own dreams and wonder what the real plan is for us.  We each wrote a promise on a paper and tucked it into the tree this year.  Our own gift to the Savior.  Mine is so personal.  This year, more than ever, I want so badly to be near Him, to be like Him, to love Him.  I feel like He is giving me new and stretching experiences that will allow me to become what He knows I can be.  But to reach them, I am having to trust like a child.

I am learning in so many ways that there is almost nothing more sacred than a childhood, no matter what age you are.


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