The transience is pressing in today. We walk alongside others in this international existence knowing change is just around the next corner. But despite the coming and the going a community is formed, through shared experience and treasured moments. A community that does hold. My thoughts this morning are with friends who are hurting many miles from where I sit. My heart turns to these and other memories as we feel and love and experience, from a distance.
Our conversation started over lunch. Our annual ladies
retreat chattering, ministering around us. There were pictures. Funny stories
of the grandkids. I was hearing of their reunion, all together in Kenya. And we
were celebrating the miracle of that.
Then the tears.
There had been a loss. And a barrenness. And my heart broke
We made our way to a veranda, and tucked ourselves away. To
I treasure this. Anointing tears.
As we sat together, we were strengthened from the past
Her first born and I consecrated the lawn of this retreat center one year long
past. Annointed with our tears. And our frustrations. And our fears. Two very inward souls, trusting from some of our deepest places on
that day. A rarity. And a treasure.
Her second born and I shared some tears too. From laughter.
Soul renewing hilarity over mountain climbs and British soldiers and
We had all shared a meal, some time later, and sat together
in their living room in Nairobi. Broken shards of loss all in the middle of us.
Sacred space. Painful space.
We didn’t know the outcome that evening as we sat with the fractured realities. Only faith. And hope. And surrender.
From those memories and many others, birthed communion. And
trust. The familiarity of joining our hands and hearts in prayer.
On the retreat veranda, those years later, we could see the
expanse of gorgeous rain forest just in front of us. Full of life. Full of
renewal. Full of funny monkeys.
We believed and prayed. We asked God for New
Life. We asked for Favor and for Grace. On that veranda, through some tears.
Right on the edge of all the glorious beauty.
This morning, some years later still, I sit on a veranda
again.Reading black and white
‘Inoperable tumor.’ ‘Aggressive cancer.’
And I am remembering. I am communing.
Many of my memories with these friends were moments when we
spoke to each other, “You are not alone.”
Today, I pray That.
This scattered community that we are. Defying the physical
separation of miles and life circumstance and oceans. Reconvening around one
To be heard.
Tears. And Hope. Feeling all on the edge of the glorious
It still hurts.
Here on this veranda, I join with the community of other
believers in the beseeching and yielding of prayer.
And we are not alone.
(Updates and prayer news for the Reppart Family can be found here.)