Waiting Room

I've been told to sit in the waiting room.

My journey is being slightly delayed -- visas are taking longer than expected to be processed. Although it was a moment of frustration when I heard that I would likely not leave for Mauritania until August, I quickly realized this means I get a few more weeks of breath, time with family and time to decompress from a stressful month or so of returning from East Africa and visiting friends and family. I'm at peace with this.

I just hope there are some good magazines in the waiting room.

I'm waiting.

I'm waiting for something
And Someone I know
Who will carry me off
To a place where it snows

I'm waiting for joy
To rain down from above
Wet my heart with its drops
Cleanse my heart with its love

Be Still My Soul

Dear Reader,

"Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end."

My soul has a tendency to be aggitated -- to run around on its own.
I pray the LORD will help me to find peace and stillness in Him.

In His Service,
Lacey

Throwing Sticks at Sin

My good friend Andrew knows a lot of random stuff.

Sitting on a balcony in the middle of Jinja, about an hour and a half from Kampala, he tells me about the weaver bird.

The weaver bird can be found in several parts of Uganda, and Andrew tells me they occupy a tree near the site he works at, building a babies' home. One guy on the construction site is responsible to go out each morning and throw sticks at the birds nesting in the trees -- the nests can be parasitic to the trees. If someone does not go out every day to throw sticks at the birds and keep them away from the trees, then the trees will die.

"I think that should be an object lesson," I say to Andrew.

And this is what I think the lesson is (for me):
If we don't keep our lives in check..
if we don't keep throwing sticks at the sin that so easily entangles us...
if we don't keep watch every day for the birds who try to make nests in our lives...
THEN --
it's very likely that sin, bad habits and destructive ways will make dwellings in our hearts, and destroy us to the very core.

I need to make sure I'm throwing sticks at sin and not letting it make nests in my life.

Tears, zebras, fears

Dear Reader,

When the fear of my life
Climbs into bed with me
And snuggles up close
And puts its cold, icy toes near mine
I shiver down in my core,
Wiggling away,
I wonder how it finds me
When I hide under the sheets.

When the pride of my life
Gallops after me
And runs me down
Like a wild pack of zebra
I get lost and end up falling for it
Getting run over by the hooves of my conceit.

When the tears of my life
Run down my cheeks
And leave reminders on my pillowcase
I realize I must be learning something
And I look forward to the sunrise
When my eyes finally dry.

~ldm

Avoiding the Lesson

Dear Reader,

Sitting on the wall in the courtyard of Nsambya babies' home, I fold small blankets and toddler trousers in the middle of the afternoon.

I'm waiting.

Waiting for the children.

It's been a long day and I'm tired, but the thought of holding one of the babies or sitting with the toddlers, laughing and tickling their tummies, is keeping me awake.

The children are waking from their naps.

They toddle outside, groggy, rubbing their brown eyes with the back of their hands. I smile and wave at one to come to me. She looks at me, uncertain. She looks at my friend Michelle. The little girl turns away. I look at Michelle, who is as confused as I am. Hmmm.

But I am not deterred. I see a few others follow the little girl, slowly waking themselves up as they enter the courtyard. I wave at them to come over. They look at me with uncertainty, watching me and turn away.

This continues to go on for about an hour, the children avoiding me.

I'm confused. All I want to do is love them. All I want to do is sit with them, focus on them, hold them. All I want to do is make them happy. But they avoid me. They see me. They know what I'm doing there, waiting for them, sitting patiently -- but they avoid me.

Is it because they're tired? Is it because they're scared? Is it because they don't understand that I only want to love them?

Then my heart grips within my chest.

This is a picture of me and GOD.

How often is my Father, sitting by the wall, waiting for me to come to Him?
All HE wants to do is love ME. All HE wants to do is sit with ME, focus on ME, hold ME. All HE wants to do is make ME happy. But I avoid HIM. I see HIM. I know what HE'S doing there, waiting for ME, sitting patiently -- but I avoid HIM.

He's waiting for me. It's time to stop doubting and time to start running into His arms.

That's the lesson from today's visit to the babies' home.

The Journey

Dear Reader,

I am a gypsy, dancing to the beat of a drum

No one hears but me

Swaying to notes and beats

And musical harmony

I am a child at play

Not sure if I want to go to class

But my Teacher loves me

And wants me to do more than simply pass

I am a clay jar

Holding all that I can bear

My cracks let out what's inside

But my Creator holds it there

I'm a gypsy wandering around this planet, looking for ways to love, live and do something that is bigger than myself. I fall and fail and stumble and laugh and cry -- and the only way I know how to explain the 1,000 emotions I experience every day is to write it down with words and songs and poems. Words are how I share, how I feel, how I express the journey I am on.

So welcome, reader.

Welcome to my gypsy journal.