Journal for Christa—
This summer we spent three weeks in Europe with Joel, Kim, Breck, and Helen. One thing I learned about three-year-old Helen is that when she’s overwhelmed and doesn’t like the situation, she’ll emphatically state, “I’m gonna be sick!” And, as often as not, she’ll make good on it.
Last week was kind of a sick week for me. I even told people I felt sick because I did. I—like Helen—felt overwhelmed, and I didn’t like the situation one bit. One night I moaned, “I’m not going to make it.” Jay just kind of gave me the look. I don’t know exactly what “the look” says, but it isn’t bad. It isn’t scolding. It’s just the look.
Then, in chapel an old classmate of Joel’s presented a ministry he works with that feeds children in very poor countries. He found me after chapel, and as we chatted with another teacher he’d had in high school, he suddenly burst into laughter, shook his head, and stated, “I can’t get over how much Helen looks like you!”
That’s not the half of it—cause I’ve been sick!
Strolling under forests green,
In a land for which I long,
Where rest and solace comfort me,
And love’s rich hand grows strong—
Where azure oceans kiss the sky,
And children’s laughter sings.
The gentle rhythm of the tide—
The distant church bell rings—
Take me back to God’s expanse
And let His Spirit fold me in
If only in my mind.
Behold! Upon awakening,
A petal—left of Thine.
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