summer: a retrospect
One of the beauties of where we live is the fun playground right outside our front door. The boys were outside playing today, and when Ruthie woke up from her nap we headed out to join them. They play on the trampoline all the time, but somehow seeing them on it struck me differently today—they were sitting there looking around at the trees and sky above them, talking about some fantasy world they’ve created in their minds.
Seeing them like that, memories of this past spring flashed into my mind—the number of elementary-aged kids here went from nine to two in the course of two months, their school here at the hospital compound closed early because of COVID, and they spent so many days after that sad and bored and lonely.
On one particularly hard day for the boys, it all became too much for me and I realized that I had been trying in my own strength to fill their time and fill their voids and fill their sadness. On that day, I wrote:
“Change, loss, loneliness. An empty compound. Sam is sad, Pip is stir crazy, Ruthie is needy, and I am so tired. I can’t make my kids feel ok, only God can. My love ceases, my energy and patience come to an end—but His doesn’t. I can’t fix this for them. I can’t be their everything. God didn’t just call Tim here, He didn’t just call Tim and me here—He called us all here. He knew the struggles the boys would have. He knew their school would close early. He knew they would be the only kids here this summer. He knew all that, and He called us here anyway.”
One of the hardest things (maybe THE hardest thing?) about coming to Ethiopia for me has been when our kids struggle being here. Feeling like our choice to come here caused this pain or loss or hardship for them nearly cripples me with guilt. Even though I know that God has good plans for all of us here, it is really hard to believe that when my kid is sobbing on my shoulder because they don’t have any friends left. But that’s another post for another day, when I have grown more wise and have more tissues on hand.
So all of that struggle, and then today—seeing them on the trampoline—it was that beautiful moment when it finally hits you that God has been answering the prayers, working in the hard situation, giving us just what we need. During the past four months the boys have grown closer to each other—yes, they’ve beat each other up but they’ve also shown more care for each other, played more imaginatively, and developed a strong sense of being in it together.
They felt important having a daily Zoom date with my stepdad where they ate popcorn and listened to chapter books he read to them. They have loved hanging out with two teenage boys who live here, and the adults left here over the summer all invested in them by kicking around a soccer ball, playing a game of chess, or chatting on the playground. I never would’ve thought this would be true four months ago, but the boys say they've had a great summer.
So throw this on the pile of times when I freaked out, struggled to trust God, and then He proved Himself good and gracious and faithful once again.
Doesn’t He get tired of me? Thankfully, no.
“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” -Lamentations 3:22-23