Today marks 5 weeks until my team hits U.S. soil again. (Pause… F I V E WEEKS … WHAT. That seems wildly impossible, altogether sad and exciting all at the same time.)
Today a team of 16 from Louisiana left to fly home. The team house feels quiet again, theres not a pile of dishes to put away anymore, and there is not worship music playing constantly through Trevor’s speaker. Every kid is not constantly asking me “where’s Kyle?” and there is not a chorus of little voices shouting “Michelle, Michelle!”.
Today I can hear the kids laughing and playing on the swing set the team built this past week. And by built, I mean, looked at a pile of steel beams, dreamed a little bit, and accepted all the curious stares as they walked the beams to the welders shop and then carried an assembled swing set back through the village. This team came in full force, loved the kids a lot, and left this place changed–this physical place in Africa and the hearts on the way back to the USA.
Today I’m reminded that this place is transient for every visitor, but is a forever home to all these kids. Teams come and teams go, and the kids here are really, really good at saying goodbye. It breaks my heart a little bit, all the “you come back?” questions from the kids, and the small smiles and “I hope so” answers from the teams that leave.
Today I’m reminded that teams are here for a week, month, or three, which is only a small fraction of the lives of the kids. I asked one boy if he had met anyone from the Louisiana team before, and he quickly did some calculating in his head before explaining, “I started living here when I was two, now I am ten.” So to answer my question: yes.
Today means 8 days until another World Race squad descends on this place for a month. The team house will be FULL (and I mean F U L L), we’ll have to introduce them to the tradition of movie nights, and the probability of having a hot shower will decrease significantly.
Today I’m a little bit sad, a little bit confused, and a lot bit exhausted from this week of early mornings and lots of projects–oh and the 10 mile hike yesterday. (So beautiful!! So worth it!! So sore today!!)
But today I’m also reminded that there is no lack of love here. No matter how many teams come and go, say “I love you” and leave–these kids are always, always loved by one another, and fully, perfectly loved by a Heavenly Father. Some days are easy and some days are hard, but every day is a beautiful glimpse of the simplicity of life when you look around and realize you have enough.
Enough grace.
Enough love.
E n o u g h.
There is enough of everything here, except hands to hold smaller ones and kisses to make tears go away and arms to give hugs and more hugs and then more hugs.
(And sometimes there is not enough hot water and sometimes there is not enough popcorn, but neither of those things really matters to eternity.)
So to update: life is good, and life is sweet. Pray for health for my team as we’re all trying to stay well; for rest this week before V squad gets here; for continued growth, trust, and obedience with the Lord; for continued relationships with the kids based on love, grace, and respect; and for eyes, ears, and hearts open to what God is doing in, through, and around us.
