Sometimes, I forget.
I forget that our kids had this complete other life, just 7 months ago, with friends and church and school and matoke and posho and mangoes straight off the tree.
I forget that they have family in Uganda who took care of them, just 14 months ago, who they loved and who loved them and did the best they could for them.
I forget that they miss their home, that they miss their families and friends and homes....I forget that their little souls long to return and still don't quite understand why we're not going back today. Or tomorrow. Or even for awhile.
Until we drive down a road, and one of them joyfully announces that this! this looks like Uganda! And they both giggle and shout because they're so happy to see the resemblance.
Until one of them prays for their mama and asks Jesus to keep her safe in heaven - and then needs one of us to lay in bed with them until they fall asleep.
Until they ask to look at pictures of Uganda, of their families, of their children's homes, of their friends - which, of course, we do. For hours.
In our eyes, they have adjusted so well. They're such happy, joyful souls that - looking at them from this vantage point while we're sitting in our own home and cultural context - it's easy to forget that they are still settling in, that there is still much work and much healing to come...and that there are some wounds that will never completely go away.
So tonight, we ask for your prayers for both Ibra and Suma. We pray that the Lord will bring healing to the broken places in their hearts and that He will knit our hearts together as a family. We long to be ministers of His grace to them and to love them well, and we pray that they will know His love and peace and comfort. We pray that the Lord will write their memories of Uganda on their hearts - they are such treasures! And finally, we pray that they will continue to settle in and that they will have friends to love and be loved by.
I forget that our kids had this complete other life, just 7 months ago, with friends and church and school and matoke and posho and mangoes straight off the tree.
I forget that they have family in Uganda who took care of them, just 14 months ago, who they loved and who loved them and did the best they could for them.
I forget that they miss their home, that they miss their families and friends and homes....I forget that their little souls long to return and still don't quite understand why we're not going back today. Or tomorrow. Or even for awhile.
Until we drive down a road, and one of them joyfully announces that this! this looks like Uganda! And they both giggle and shout because they're so happy to see the resemblance.
Until one of them prays for their mama and asks Jesus to keep her safe in heaven - and then needs one of us to lay in bed with them until they fall asleep.
Until they ask to look at pictures of Uganda, of their families, of their children's homes, of their friends - which, of course, we do. For hours.
In our eyes, they have adjusted so well. They're such happy, joyful souls that - looking at them from this vantage point while we're sitting in our own home and cultural context - it's easy to forget that they are still settling in, that there is still much work and much healing to come...and that there are some wounds that will never completely go away.
So tonight, we ask for your prayers for both Ibra and Suma. We pray that the Lord will bring healing to the broken places in their hearts and that He will knit our hearts together as a family. We long to be ministers of His grace to them and to love them well, and we pray that they will know His love and peace and comfort. We pray that the Lord will write their memories of Uganda on their hearts - they are such treasures! And finally, we pray that they will continue to settle in and that they will have friends to love and be loved by.
love the prayers! so, so can relate to this post. gave me chill bumps and brought tears to my eyes.
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