Friday, March 26, 2010


Do you recall when I chatted with you

As I combed my Barbie's hair?

You were like my super imaginary friend;

Intangible, but I knew you were there.


Remember when I made a deal with you

After school on the bus?

I said if you gave me a boyfriend

I'd still (mostly) focus on us.


How about that time I sat in the dormitory,

Lost in confusion of where you were?

Hot tears, accused you of not listening,

Not hearing a single word.


Should I remind you of the time,

My trembling hand signed that contract?

I dared you to follow me,

Bit my lip, and apprehensively packed.


Why is it only after I've choked down humility,

And with a raw throat, sung your song,

That those lyrics, I finally recall?

I AM here, will be there, and was all along.

I AM here, will be there, and was all along.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Another week has come and gone.

Just one week ago, two members of our small family abruptly move to Wuhan. Their arrival into our lives the term before had been a gift, a sign that the work we were doing was wholly good, and so we begin to doubt. The night we find out, I fall asleep whispering pleas to Him for encouragement.

The next morning, a sister is born.

Days ago, that same sister abruptly finds out the job she has applied for, has a position ready for her. We try to keep our heads high, still excited for the new life she has chosen, and glad for her success in finding work. So, we say our goodbyes and she moves on.

This morning, we meet with our Sunday Crew, trying not to notice who isn't there. No extra chairs have to be pulled forward, no one needs the lesson interpreted. And then a friend tells us he wants to be our brother. And I look around the room at the rest of my Yichang family soaking in the elation of the moment.

You know, what's funny? Going in, he hit his head. Hard. But he's ready to give it another go. And so we try again. This time he tilts his head forward, and is finally fully immersed in His commitment. And we sing and hurriedly swipe at the tears, knowing full well the wonderful joy that comes despite the bumps. And quite inexplicably, the room is full, again.