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.