I glance around the patio searching for the normalcy I thought would return when the van pulled away. In less than ten seconds I know normalcy fled forever when the van first pulled in.
I’ll call them the “G” family.
Three bottles of bubbles emptied. Dozens of pouches of fruit snacks consumed. Hopscotch boxes hopped smudge-like.
The remnants of one last activity left standing on the table. Small bottles of paint where her seven-year-old heart smeared love on a canvas just before the van was loaded. She wrote her name in pen right smack in the middle, like she knew she was writing it on my heart. She really is Mine.
Yes, I look around and begin to pick up the pieces of normalcy to put the house back together, but I know my heart has been broken beyond repair. With one sweeping glance I’m in tears at the bubbles, the hopscotch, the paints, and the glory.
Because that van, it did not just bring the G family, it brought the Bride. And these days, they have been a foretaste.
I wish I could tell you all the details. I wish I could tell you where the Gs live in constant danger. I wish I could tell you how they’ve paid the price of bloodshed for the sake of the Good News of Jesus. Ask me face to face, and maybe then I can.
…I’m over in my own space today reflecting on the house guests we hosted earlier this week. Would you join me over here…