I sat in church today feeling like once again I would have no clue what’s going on until we dismiss.
I love singing the songs that I don’t know.
I love watching the people worship to words I can’t say but I know are glorifying to God.
And everything around me just seemed to overwhelm me with thanksgiving.
It’s already been a slightly overwhelming week but God showed me so many people this morning that reminded me how good life is and how the small things are Oh, so small.
Our Evenson, who suffers from Muscular Distrophy, can barely walk and has painful joints, but is never found without a smile. Who stays after all the other boys have gotten distracted to help put chairs away. Who goes out of his way to come say ‘hi’.
He sat by me in church today. It’s often uncomfortable for him to sit for a long period of time, but he never leaves his seat. During worship, as most of our other older boys are reluctant to stand, or are bored, Evenson is standing in the middle of them, with his hands lifted and his eyes closed, lifting the most sincere and genuine worship and prayer to God.
I cried because I know God was listening to him.
I cried because he wasn’t embarrassed or ashamed that he wasn’t fitting in.
I cried because, well, I’m super emotional right now.
I cried because he doesn’t deserve MD. He deserves to run. He deserves to play soccer. I pray for him each day that God would heal his body, or at least give him comfort in his bones.
Pepito and Chris Jerry.
Pepito is a single father. He brings his son, Chris Jerry with him everywhere, including church.
A single father is unheard of in Haiti.
A father is rarely heard of, but a father raising a son all alone is literally unheard of.
Not to mention a son who has special needs. Who requires 24 hour care.
He is a young man, in his 20’s, who gave up his job, his life – everything – to raise this boy who will never say ‘I love you’, who will never jump into his arms or play soccer with him. Pepito has literal minimal resources.
Yet, Pepito loves his son so much.
I cried today watching their love.
I cried watching a father love his son so much with no requirement for a return.
The man in the front who stood giving thanks to God the entire morning.
A grown man being vulnerable is another unheard of thing in Haiti.
I cried watching him be so incredibly grateful for life. For provision.
I cried because of my selfish heart – the difference in the way that this man and I would define the same term of provision.
Most likely his children were able to eat this week, thus he feels provided for.
They weren’t out on the streets. Or maybe they were. Whatever the case, he felt provision in his life.
I cried thinking about the lives of the people in the church today. When they’re not at church. When it’s just a normal day. What their homes look like. When and if they eat.
On Sunday they are presenting their best. Even then, in the states we would be in those circumstances feeling like Job, like there is nothing left.
Yet they worship, they give thanks, feeling like they have been provided for another week.
Think again the next time you beg for provision, and clearly define that term for yourself.
Then give thanks.