Running and Shouting

This week was a big week.

This week I got a perspective check – a deeper, higher, louder, brighter, bolder, and desperate awareness of how much I need God. 

Long day in the car!

Pastor Sthembiso, Lifa and I drove an hour and a half through twisty-turny mountains to pick up Lifa’s auntie on Tuesday, and continued another hour and a half through roads lined with SNOW and ICE to go to home affairs.

It was time to handle some business.

And we’ve established enough trust and relationship with Lifa’s biological family for them to know we’re on their side – the side that chooses the highest good for them and believes they are worth being called family to us at Ten Thousand Homes and in the Kingdom of God.

Lifa and his father do not have birth certificates. It’s a huge epidemic in Africa. Identity-less people growing up uncharted in their own country.

I don’t want to demean the reality or truth in them in any way, but our “identity crises” in the States look a little different. They often come with things like changing careers, leaving or cleaving to families, or changes in economic status. Birth certificates, social security numbers and knowing your birthday… for the most part, these things are a given. And if somehow your identity documents are lost, stolen or slipped through some judicial crack, there’s a policy, procedure and something written in black and white. Talk to the right badge; find the right stamp; and wiggle into the right system.

Justice.

I don’t know the statistics of how many children and adults in South Africa are living without something that acknowledges who they are and where they came from.

How could there be a statistic for a group of invisible people?

But I do know that these people are destined for a life that repeats the same messages of not being known and not being worth it over and over again: no education, no work beyond finding manual labor, no eligibility for government assistance or acknowledgment, and children at risk of being trafficked or getting sick without even being missed.

A broken system. A perpetuating orphan crisis. Children having children with no help, no acknowledgement and no way to break the cycle.

Not my kid.

Back to the business-handling part of this story:

Back seat party! Auntie loved the toys too.

We were ready. I packed the lunches, provided the transport and was loud-mouthed American shouting for rights for Lifa. Pastor was the one with the language, the pastor badge, the big-talk, the know-how, and the people in the right places. Lifa’s auntie was the one with the DNA, the ID, and the ID and death certificate of Lifa’s paternal grandmother (1964-2007). We had a plan of action and were ready to go apply for the birth certificate with high hopes and big faith.

Operation: Shout fror Justice was quickly (and temporarily) silenced an hour into home affairs with Pastor’s overwhelmed face, genuine sorrow, and the words, “It’s not going to happen.”

This is when the perspective checking started. In this desperate moment where, with each new piece of information that came in, the gap for justice widened.

I’m speaking on fathers this Sunday in my church.

And this week I learned that, as much as we want fathers to rise up to take responsibility for families and children in this country, it’s not just counter-cultural, but their rights are totally written out of the law. A father cannot register his child for a birth certificate. It has to be a mother or the mother’s mother.

And if you come to the place that we are suddenly finding ourselves in, when there’s no identity documents for either parent and no living grandmothers, shoulders get shrugged, exhales get louder and it suddenly becomes a, “We don’t know what to do.”

Where’s the policy? Where’s the procedure? Where’s the stamp? Where’s the badge?

I came here to be God’s hands and feet in the orphan crisis.

Now the orphan crisis is living in my house.

And he calls me Mama.

Photo by Clark Grigg

Lifa was set up to fall right into place in this perpetuating orphan crisis – to never have an id, never have the right to dream, and to have a long and hard road to find his place in the Family of God. Maybe even to continue the cycle. If it’s all you know, what else can you do?

Not anymore.

Lifa is not an orphan.

Lifa has a mama.

Lifa has a father who loves him dearly – enough to want the best life for him. He’s heroically taking a chance with some emotional white girl to break a cycle, to choose family, and to end the orphan crisis in his own family.

Photo by Clark Grigg

Two years ago Lifa was invisible.

Today you can’t miss him. He’s like a lip magnet!

Transformed from “the least of these” to “God’s Greatness”.

The way we love each other is teaching us and everyone around us family.

A former orphan is teaching others about the Family of God.

And living, loving and worshipping from his place in the Family.

This week changed me.

Where I was once timid, nervous and taken back by the great promise God has put on Lifa and I, I’m now proud to hold on to them, speak them out and run after them.

Lifa’s been teaching me allllll about temper tantrums.

I think I’m learning well.

I’m joining in the running and shouting.

I’m shouting out for justice and family.

My heart is desperately crying out for what I believe God is calling us to.

And I’m running after Him. And what He says. And how He says to do it.

“We don’t know what to do,” isn’t stopping us in our tracks.

It’s just turning us onto uncharted territory – giving us more space to run.

And we’re going to run hard. And shout loud.

And this “we don’t know what to do” place we’re in is going to give God glory such a beautiful stage.

Pastor, Lifa and I are going to social services tomorrow to ask where to start.

Stand with us.

Run with us.

Shout with us.

There’s a little boy and his entire biological family God is calling Home.

There’s a family living in a little cottage God is calling His.

There’s a nation full of voices to join in a battle cry for family and for justice.

Home Is Where the Hope Is

In the past year and a half that Ten Thousand Homes has partnered with Pastor Sthembiso to host a feeding program from his church, I’ve watched Wednesday afternoons in Mbonisweni transform from a handful of chaotic kids climbing the trees, walls and anybody who’d stand still long enough into a family of 200+ who laugh, play, learn, sing, dance, and sometimes just sit together.

A real and beautiful family.

And here at Ten Thousand Homes, we’ve had a growing awareness that we need to know the children beyond the churchyard. We need to call them family in the places they go home.

Culturally, talking about home-life, need or even revealing parts of your story is a no-no here. In fact, Americans have a reputation for asking too many questions that seem completely irrelevant or inappropriate. (Remember that time I went to grad school to become a therapist and learned to think in questions? I’m that American.)

I’ve been loving, squeezing, feeding, kissing and holding many of these children for over a year and know very little about their post-4:30pm lives. What do they go home to? The spoken language is a barrier, but not as large as the difference in cultural languages.

How do we speak love, belonging, value and Home in a language they can receive?

Steadfast relationship-building. 

Consistent love.

There’s a foundation now. 

We’ve been speaking of the Rock, and we’re ready to build a Home on Him.

And we’re ready to go deeper. 

It’s time to call them known where they live. 

Lindsay Loveless helped jumpstart this call when her heart was jumpstarted during a trip to Ten Thousand Homes in May. Her heart latched onto a little heart whose need for love was louder than any language. Lindsay fell in love with 7-year old Siyabonga.

She sent a suitcase full of clothes, shoes and winter wear to replace the too-small, too-torn and too-dirty clothes and shoes he pieced on every day.

I rallied up a group of SiSwati-speaking volunteers and some TTH representatives after a Wednesday feeding and asked Siyabonga to take us to his home.  Instantly, he was overcome with anxiety and that sweet smile and little voice that usually follows me around singing my name went icy. We walked and walked and walked – far enough to be “malungu” (white people) that stood out, partially because of our skin color and partially because of my incredibly graceful slipping and sliding up and down every rock and hill.

Finally, after avoiding every short cut and taking the longest way possible, Siyabonga runs ahead of us to warn his mama we were coming. She stands outside of a house that isn’t hers - she says she is watching it for someone else and didn’t know where she’ll live after that – and she just stared.

Siyabonga’s shivering from the winter evening chill setting in and the arctic-temperature of the  environment.

So far, so good….

You know… if good is defined as painfully awkward.

Awkward is kinda my new normal since moving to Africa, though. Some would be more politically correct and say "different'.

This is when I started praying that we weren’t getting Siyabonga in trouble or putting him in danger. Maybe we should have respected his anxiety?

Too late now.

Pass me that bag of warm fuzzy treasures.

I’m going to try to not look like a ridiculous American, but rather a messenger of God’s love for His children.

His provision. His comfort.

He meets needs. Even when we’re reallllllly awkward about it.

I got down on eye-level with the man of the hour, shaking in his sole-less shoes.

I told him he’s loved.

He’s valuable.

He’s a dearly loved child of God.

I told him God loves him so much, He’s speaking about him to the heart of a woman on the other side of the world.

I told him Lindsay loves him and prays for him everyday.

I pulled out a card with photos that Lindsay had sent. She even wrote it in SiSwati.

Siyabnga was overwhelmed.

All the expression had washed out of his face. Usually, you can read him like a book.

He almost looked empty.

But the second he saw Lindsay’s photo and remembered – when he really knew what I was saying – I saw the tiniest yet brightest flicker. 

It’s what feeling loved looks like. 

It was a piece of Home taking root in him.

The moment he got it.

My friend Tersia read the card to Siyabonga and his mama.

I turned to the mama and explained how happy we were to know her son and how he makes the feedings better just by being there.

I went in for the arm touch… We’re getting there.

Siyabonga's mama looking at the photos and my friends from church, Witness and Tersia 

I crouched down and dressed shivering, stony-faced Siyabonga in winter clothes. Everything fit perfectly. I could see behind his overwhelmed eyes, eyes that were unsure what his mama was thinking, that he was over-saturated by love. 

I would guess he’s never had an encounter with grace, love and provision like that before.

Hand-me-downs and an extra baggage fee changed one little boy’s life and experience of family.

It was time to get outta there. The mama was getting increasingly uncomfortable and Siyabonga didn’t know how to handle it.

We prayed together and invited them to church.

We left hoping for the best. And in total shock . We’d never seen a kid who didn’t know how to feel when receiving to that degree before.

He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t smile.

I don’t think this is uncommon.

And I wonder how receiving hope translates.

I found him Sunday morning when I pulled into church  - he was waiting at the gate dressed from head to toe in his new clothes. Beaming. The happiest little boy at church. He was standing there modeling, wanting everyone to notice and ready to be thankful.

Mr. Mbonisweni himself - the proudly-dressed welcome committee!

His mama was standing in the road. We watched her inch her way closer to church. She looked like Siyabonga did when we asked him to take us home.

Meanwhile, he was busy having photo shoots – with a watchful eye on his mama’s whereabouts. Finally, pastor pulled her in, greeted her and the mothers took her in under their wings.

Somebody get this guy an agent

Siyabonga sat with me. She sat with the mamas. He watched her nervously. She clapped awkwardly to the music, but eventually started singing.

Three weeks later, she’s still coming.

As a family, they are slowly settling in as part of our church.

Siyabonga’s less nervous.

She’s more social.

He went to Sunday School.

She came on her own.

God is moving.

God started moving through a feeding, a suitcase and a card written in SiSwati.

I don’t know what Siyabonga’s life looks like when he goes home everyday. 

But I know that we went to that house and spoke love over it. And something changed. 

I know that one person responding to one Christ-breathed whisper was enough to start a change that I think will transform Siyabonga’s life.

Now we get to join in together, as a family that believes this family is worth Hope and Home…

Pray with us.

Speak with us.

In your own home, speak home into Siyabonga and his mama. Seeds have been planted, and now it’s time to intercede. Let’s lean in together and watch Home grow.

The sparkle of hope is growing in that sweet little boy, and his mama is beginning to experience the warmth and the glory of His grace. His welcome. His provision.

Let’s build Home together. 

A bigger, brighter and more hopeful smile

Getting Offensive

Truth time everybody…

Try not to judge…

I spent seven years cheering on the sidelines of small-town Texas football…

ahem, this isn’t even the part I was warning you not to judge.

It was an exciting outlet to do what I love doing – encouraging, rallying enthusiasm, and celebrating people. I realized it’s not all out of me this weekend when I found myself leading a rally of 3 yr-olds around the slide on base, making up a little song I like to call, “Go Charlie Go!” to cheer the youngest addition to the playground club down the slide.

In those seven years of football Fridays, I learned enough to know when to cheer for offense and when to cheer for defense. I knew which direction my team was supposed to run and when. I usually knew when something good happened and something bad happened. Annnndddd.. that’s about it.

Ok, fine… judge. It’s ridiculous.

I didn’t know the plays. And, um, I don’t even really know exactly what a play is.

I just knew the defensive team were the protectors – they kept the ball from moving toward the opponent’s goal. That’s when I would start yelling something like, “Push ‘em back, push ‘em back….”

(As I’m writing this, I’m feeling increasingly more ridiculous… and also wishing I was going to a pep rally.)

And the offensive team were the guys with the ball in hand – running aggressively toward the goal. Cue: The fight song that may or may not still be on my iPod.

All of that to say, I have no idea why Jesus would think this is the time to start talking football talk with me. Maybe it has something to do with my new roommate, who chases the dogs around with big sticks, turns everything into a “moto” and is a boy through-and-through.

Lifa’s home.

It’s so so right to have him home.

To hear a squeaky, smiley, stretchy “Gooood Morrrrrning”. To sing, “Holy, Holy, Holy” and to hear him tell me “Jesus loves you so much Mama” in SiSwati. To watch him “shake it baby, shake it”. To have to turn down the music during car dance parties to make sure I heard correctly: yes, yes he was shouting, “BODY ROLL!”. To watch him play with his best buddy in Mbonisweni and then happily grab my hand when it’s time to go home because he knows that’s where he belongs.

It’s incredible the way God has made us family – with supernatural roots and love for each other.

It’s not all body rolls and good morning kisses, and I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster this week as I’ve watched him struggle in starting a new routine. We’ve started school, and he’s having to relearn something that’s never been taught well: consistency, structure, and that I’m going to come back for him. Family beyond the “weekend at Mom’s house” kind of party. Home.

The restlessness and nightmares have come back and he runs into bed crying, “MAMA” in the middle of the night. The fear of falling asleep and me not being there is resurfacing. And I feel like we’re in a spiritual arm wrestle.

I want to protect Lifa and my family.

I want to join the defensive team with the roar of a Mama Lion and say a lot more than “Push ‘em back…”

But God is saying more than that.

He’s telling me to trust bigger.

That the Kingdom is more than taking the defense.

It’s aggressively running toward the goal. Heaven on earth with everybody Home.

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. (Matthew 6:33)

He’s telling me not to just bunker down in my cozy cottage and fight for sanctified naptimes and potty dances. He’s reminding me that Home can’t fit within four walls. And Lifa’s presence is a reminder of God’s faithfulness to His promises.

We have a promise, a deposit and everything within us to bring the Kingdom of heaven to earth.

Now it is God who makes both us and you stand firm in Christ. He anointed us, set his seal of ownership on us, and put his Spirit in our hearts as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come. (2 Corinthians 1:21-23)

Lifa’s presence, and every loop and twirl of this emotional and spiritual roller-coaster, is a reminder that the Kingdom is coming, and we are designed to be hungry for Home.

Jesus died so we could have a promise of the Kingdom in us.

And told us to pray for His Kingdom to come.

“This, then, is how you should pray… your kingdom come, 
your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” Matthew 6:9-11

He’s our defender. Our fortress. Our protector. (Psalm 18)

He wants us to stand, to run and to speak for the offense. (John 21:15-22)

So, hand in hand with His Body and with Lifa, we will take the offense.

Instead of closing the curtains on the cottage, we’ll open them in faith.

Enlarge the place of your tent, stretch your tent curtains wide, do not hold back; lengthen your cords, strengthen your stakes. (Isaiah 54:2)

The promise of His Family increasing and the completeness of family isn’t just about one little boy. That little boy is a promise of His Greatness and the plans He has for every child, starting with “the least of these.”

Pray with us. Believe with us. From the details to the big picture.

Let’s offend the enemy with our active engagement in spiritual warfare. He doesn’t get to live in us. We are citizens of Heaven.

Let’s actively expand our tents and make room for His Family. We all have a place there.

Let’s not sit back and talk about what not to do.

Let’s speak and act on His promises even before we see them.

We don’t need to know the plays. We need to know the promises.

Let’s believe in the God who was and is and is to come with every part of us.

And one more time, everybody…. Cue: Fight Song!

Love you

Roooosssaaa, He's Hoooome!!!

For weeks I’ve been scaling the walls and the emotional valleys and peaks of loving Lifa from afar.

Even after we got the date set on when he’d come home again, I felt out of control because suddenly I could feel how long it’d been since I’d kissed those perfect little lips and held those just-the-right-sized hands. What a crazy and overpowering love I have for this kid. How does God do it with ALL His children?

How does He love so deeply? And so completely? Although I’ve been trying to keep my hands busy with work and my heart distracted from feeling the pain of distance, God’s sovereign and peaceful hand has been on, in and encompassing us since before we even knew there was a beginning of a story.

The blog title might have given away the drum roll, grand entrance shebang I was going for, but…. LIFA’S HERE! Wheeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!

On Sunday, 7 weeks after dropping Lifa off with his father, Pastor Sthembiso, my brother Lennon, my visiting cousin Laura Chaffin and I filled the little blue Mazda and headed to another one of Lifa's extended family functions to pick him up for a 5 week visit.

I get so nervous every time.

But we’ve been at every family function Lifa’s ever been too since he was an infant. His father recently reconnected with his family in a beautiful ongoing story of reconciliation that I got to be a part of – so this weekend we were welcomed in as family. Not a big hoorah over the white people (ok, there was a small one), not a formal sit-down… we were squished into the middle of loud music, piles of pap and chicken and relatives delighted in us delighting in Lifa.

This was all I was aware of: one perfect little boy who immediately crawled into my lap and went to sleep.

I passed out family photo albums from our last family gathering and my last time with Lifa. It was so beautiful to watch the family pour over memories made together, laughing and treasuring their new albums. Photo albums are highly valued in this culture and photos are difficult to come by. I felt family roots thickening through a simple exchange of such an intimate gift.

A happy grandmother

Lifa's father showing off his new photo album

After about an hour of picture time and a sleeping lap baby, it was time to make our exit paparazzi style!

ready to bring this boy home!

Laura was a happy woman - she got to ride home in style! (And yes, laws are different in S Africa. But Lifa now has his own booster seat!)

Lifa’s been through so much change and transition in his 3 ½ years. Watching him attach to me completely as mama has been an incredible and beautiful journey. I didn’t know what I was signing up for a year and a half ago… and I still don’t really… but I wouldn’t and I couldn’t do it any other way.

It’s crazy to think that last year he was an invisible kid – no one noticed him and he hardly had family. And today he has an abundance of love, family and people willing to change for this one little life.

Keri Dodge was the perfect welcome committee as we made our first round through base and went to visit his friend Isabelle.

Lifa's favorite seat in every meeting is in Mimi's lap

Watching him remember, feel things out and fall back into step with being back home at the Ten Thousand Homes base and in our house has been so fun! He just arrived on Sunday, so he’s not speaking much around anybody except me yet. With every day and every encounter, we see him wake up and warm up a little more. Love is rolling over him and healing the places that have been dried out.

I’m cherishing every moment. He loves being here, and I’m SO happy to see him happy! He wakes up with a HUGE smile once he realizes where he is and then immediately is ready for some shakin’ it to worship music. (Still working on teaching him how NOT to dance like a white boy.)

This is a perfect hidden-camera moment where he realizes he's on video, tries to play it cool and seem like he's just testing out the instrument, and then gives in to the shaking once again. My kid! Well done on the video, Laura! 

Pray for us as we adjust!  Beyond daily life being rearranged, pray for Lifa to feel safe and peace. He’s still nervous I might leave and keeps his eyes on me. I love the extra snuggles, but am praying for him to feel a security in belonging in the Family of God first and then with me second.

Today we had an incredible day of sight-seeing and family fun with Laura! We got to watch him come alive a little more and show off that perfect personality of his.

We found out today he's quite the rock climbing, adventurous boy! Rosa would've been so proud! Testing out the COLD water on top of a waterfall.

Oh hey... hand on forehead.

You gotta include a kissy picture

Something I like to call, "Setting a good example."

Everyone sleepy after a long day and me ridiculously happy on a Lifa's-home high. Still going strong! 

I feel an inescapable joy today. I feel like I can laugh and celebrate all the way through me now. I feel flooded with thankfulness.

Celebrate family with Lifa and I by celebrating your family today!

Celebrate God’s faithfulness and a love that binds beyond distances!

Shoot… have a white boy dance party for Jesus!

And please, pray with us and for us. Pray for Lifa to encounter Home and Belonging in God’s Kingdom in supernatural, indescribable ways while he’s here. Pray for incredible favor over him and us. Pray that Lifa and I experience the completeness of family.

Thank you for loving us and celebrating with us! 

Sweeping for the Seamless

So I started writing to you over a week ago. Somehow and somewhere halfway down the page, sitting in the middle of the action-packed Ten Thousand Homes base, I forgot where I left off. For good reason though. I’ve found myself in the past few weeks getting lost in the most beautiful tapestry  - God weaving together new meaning, exposing new depths of grace, and building a new foundation for family. He’s so good at what He does…

My cousin, Laura Chaffin arrived on June 23^rd. FAMILY in Africa! My first family member to experience life on this side of the globe and to meet Lifa! (We are hoping, praying and trusting he’ll be back home with me this weekend! Pray, pray, pray we can meet up with him and his father on Friday, July 8^th at Home Affairs.)

Since Laura arrived, there has been more joy, more delight, more encouragement, more grace and more family – deep, deep down family – than I ever could have imagined encountering.

I don’t know what He’s doing… but He’s doing something big. It’s another step in paving the way for what’s to come in family, with Lifa and in creating hope and home in me and in Africa’s orphaned and vulnerable children.

Let’s take that and rewind it back to June 23^rd, shall we? (Thank you everyone who just caught on to me saying ‘take that and rewind it back’.)

Last year on June 23rd, I announced I was staying in South Africa to join the Ten Thousand Homes staff, I talked about relaxing into God’s sovereign embrace rather than try to perform well enough, and had my arms full of sleeping Lifa while God burned into my heart His words, “This is what it’s supposed to be like.”

I could never ever… EVER… have imagined the way this year would unfold.

This year on June 23^rd, I was lavished by God’s love.

I was wrecked by God’s love.

I was overwhelmed and absolutely consumed by God’s love.

I sat bundled up on my couch in the cottage after saying goodnights, in silent reverence, with an unhinged jaw. No one was there. Lifa was not sleeping in my arms.

But, once again, on June 23^rd God spoke to an untapped part of my heart. “This is what it’s supposed to be like.”

Laura had rolled in suitcases full of love upon arrival. Pike’s Place in my French press is like a hug every morning. More than the American treats, she brought genuine expressions of love.

She brought the most beautiful, take-my-breath-away reminders that the Body of Christ is more than just a bunch of body parts. It’s family. I teach that in my African church every month... but this hit me hard. Across oceans, intimate, personal and so completely, unexpectedly loving.

Laura's mom and sister sent beautiful blankets for Lifa and I! He's going to LOVE it!

She unpacked suitcases full of Siyabonga-sized winter clothes from last month’s visitor, Lindsay Loveless, who was so moved by compassion, she continues to respond to the least of these in Africa from America. 

The final straw for me that sent my jaw to the floor was opening up the card Lindsay made for Siyabonga. Written completely in his language. SiSwati.

She spoke love to him in his language.

And, through opening that card, those suitcases and all of that delicious coffee, Jesus spoke to me in my language. A family love that can love everybody all the way.

More and more love kept flowing in – I hit flood level (hence the jaw on the ground) and it kept pouring. “This is what It’s supposed to be like.” The more we take and take and take His love and grace, the more He gives and gives and gives. It’s His upside-down Kingdom thing He does. There’s no earning or working for it… there’s just drinking it all in.

All this jaw-dropping love… I’m going to have to start sweeping more often.

There’s more… from that same suitcase!

Last month’s visitor, Anda Brown, sent a shoe kit for my sister Prudence. Prudence loved Anda’s homemade shoes. Anda gave them to her right then and there, and then sent a kit of practice shoes along with a personal video for Prudence to teach her how to make the shoes and hopefully start her own business! You see what I mean? We’re going past warm fuzzies here… This is arms, legs, mouth, eyes, and all the parts of the Body standing up and saying, “We see you. We know you. You’re worth it,” to the people in the world who’ve never heard it.

The way you love, the way they’ve responded, Laura’s presence here, and the way you’re sticking with me… this is the stuff changing the world.

This is what it looks like to bring the Kingdom of Heaven to earth.

I’ve been hit hard by His grace and the way it flows through you. Don’t stop loving your family and being loved by His ridiculous grace.

Take and take and take it. Give and give and give it.

The more I pray for it, the more He sweeps me away in it. Here’s part of a prayer I prayed yesterday:

Jesus, I love you.

 I love the way you give gifts and extend compassion across nations. 

I love the way your love flowing makes all people groups, 

all culture and all voices feel like a seamless family.

I love the way your Spirit dances in mine as a promise of heaven 

and a taste of Home dwelling in me…

Your Sovereignty prevails and is more faithful than the sun.

Your love is more powerful.. Your thoughts more profound…

The palm of Your hand is bigger than the ocean.

Your justice is stronger than a hurricane.

Heaven, come down.

Flow wildly – burn more brightly and dangerously than a wildfire.

Bring your Kingdom into focus…

Amen

Here’s a picture of His immediate answer to that prayer – the prayer of His seamless family connecting, His Kingdom coming into focus, and his passionate love burning brightly through His children. I had my computer at my African family’s house and my GoGo ran up to me screaming in SiSwati that she wanted to see her sister… my NaNa. She sat all the way down on the ground with me as I pulled up the picture, screaming “I love you” in SiSwati and leaning over to kiss the screen. My sisters talked about how beautiful their Texas mama and sister, Sunny is. You could see something actually filling up in them once they felt like they got introduced to their family. We were created to be seamless. We were designed to take and take and take in that marvelous, ever-flowing love.

 This is how it’s supposed to be.