New Life & Dry Bones
It was almost all I could think about when we moved here. The Genocide Against the Tutsi. Everywhere I went it seemed dark brown eyes stared back at me from hollow looking faces as I passed them on the street. Eyes that seemed full of pain. Eyes that seemed to have seen terrible things. Eyes that had looked in the face of Evil–and lived. A great, great Evil. And I did not know, nor could I ask, just what those eyes had seen. What kinds of pain and tragedy they knew–indeed, still know.
Wisdom in Unlikely Places
Brooke tells me she doesn’t feel right about this guy being in our home. He makes her feel unsafe. Strike one. Mary says his story doesn’t add up. Strike two. Laetitia shares that his lack of ties to anyone is most likely a result of drug or alcohol abuse and as a result he is on the streets. She encourages me to be cautious in helping and to go slow. Strike three. No need to see what Jean Paul thinks at this point.
Act like a Man…
I am stranded in a new country with a new vehicle and have no idea what to do. Job’s wife’s words come to mind “curse God & die.” Instead, the Lord reminds me of David’s words “Be strong, act like a man, and walk with Him.” I know the pity party will not do me any good.