So, Sarah has been down for about 20 minutes and I figure it was safe to adventure out from our room, the little punk sometimes has a habit of allowing me to think that I can be comfortable on the other side of the campus in that chair I have been eyeing all day with a good book, when she decided to actually let me know what she is made of.
So, I find myself over in the baby orphanage. I walk in and do what I normally do, I head straight over to the little cribs, no luck, then to the big ones, over the sleeping children I am still scanning, maybe one of the workers have him, no… so in standing there I go over the mental list of where the little bugger could be hiding, all the American are counted for and they don’t have him… I am about to whip out my like 3 words of Creole and hand gesture out my question when it hits me… I won’t find him here anymore… I stand there for a second and in a way learn how to breath again and I slowly feel that familiar August 11th ache. There it was... in all my keepin busy I for got in a way how much I miss my Jude. I miss seeing smile and laugh.
So, as I stand knee deep in children but empty handed Jeremiah 31:13 floods my brain and I start to see that is wasn't being busy over the last couple weeks that brought smiles and laughter to me, it was JOY from my Jesus in watching Sarah grow, making friends over cards and finding my Jesus in the Stars while laying on a hammock. It was Him lavishing His love on me that brought me Joy despite me missing my baby boy.
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