Let That Be Enough

Some moments in time stick out in your mind much more than others. It always seems that those moments, no matter how far removed from the present they become, are never any less vivid as you replay them in your head. This week, I experienced several of those moments, but the circumstances of one seemed especially precious. On Wednesday night, Elise and I headed to the boys dorm to read their nightly story. Only a couple of minutes after stepping foot in their room at about 7:30, the lights turned off for the evening. We thought about just waiting until the next evening, but due to the desperate pleas of the boys, decided to read the chapter by the light of a torch (what they call a flashlight). It was Elise’s turn to read, so I took my place along one of the other walls and was instantly surrounded by little white eyes and bright white smiles amidst the darkness. The boys in particular are always affectionate, but the extent to which they longed to be right by my side was greater than usual. As she began to read, some placed their heads on my legs, my hands, my shoulders, and stomach. They just wanted to be near, to be held, to be loved. One of the boys actually took my arm and placed it around his shoulders so my hand rested gently on his chest. I couldn’t decide whether I should cry out of joy at the privilege of being with these kids, or cry out of sorrow at the fact that the reason these boys longed to be touched so badly is because it was something they were deprived of for so long. I still don’t know which reason it was, but my eyes welled up and eventually streamed down, landing on one of the boy’s cheeks. He didn’t move. Neither did anyone else. All of them had fallen fast asleep.

Needless to say, I have been learning a lot since my arrival here. One of the lessons I keep being brought back to, is what it means to really rest in Him and not need anything more. I think that moment on the evening of October 8th was a beautiful picture of the contentment that can be found in Christ. Those boys wanted nothing from me, but to be near me. They didn’t ask for anything, not even a back rub or a blanket. They simply nuzzled themselves as close as they could and rested. I mean really rested. The Psalmist writes “Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from Him” (62:5). Being literally hurled out of my comfort zone, there has been little to find rest in. My friends and family are many miles away and my intellect, abilities, and even my college education continually leave me longing. Thankfully, after my many failed attempts at success by my own might, I crawl back to Him and find a place to lay my head on His shoulder. There I find rest. It is only there that I find hope.

“Let me know that you hear me
Let me know your touch
Let me know that you love me
And let that be enough”
~Switchfoot

This week’s kid is the oldest boy at our home. His name is Sylvester and he is 14 years old, but cannot read at all. For most of his life, he worked small jobs on the street and tried hard to survive along with his siblings. As can be imagined, school was never really a priority. He is a passionate and caring boy who has big dreams and aspirations. He often talks of his goal to be a lawyer one day, but right now we are starting small. Please pray that progress in his academic subjects would be quick as he has much catching up to do, but more importantly that he will not lose hope in the process!

Please also continue to pray for Abdul as we attempt to contact authorities and social welfare in order to locate his father and bring about his return.

Thanks!

Love,
Lindsay

(we are now becoming recognized faces in many of the places we frequent, so the cries to Obruni are heard less often)