I'm missing Casa Bernabe tonight. I miss the faces. I miss walking into the baby house and touching the babies. I miss this amazing feeling of being enveloped in the arms of God through children. Perhaps it's my babies I'm missing. Perhaps it's the devastation in Haiti. I want to do something, but I want it to be purposeful. I want it to be God working through me, prompting me, leading me forward. I'm thinking back to little Carlos, who I had the honor to carry to church at Casa Bernabe. I keep thinking...he went home. He went home. And for Gabriel. Gabriel who went home to his family in July 2008. He went home. But this isn't the reality for so many children. They'll never go to their earthly home again. How Lord? Show me how to love these children as you love them. Not with words, but with actions. Orphanage. Love. Mission. Life. Do something. You have one life to live. The way you live your days is the way you live your life. It's what's on my heart, and it needs to come out.
I realize I'm rambling. Perhaps I'm tired. Perhaps I'm overwhelmed with a flood of emotions. Thanking God for the ability to type and get out some of the stuff crammed into my brain.
When I was at CB this summer, there were many times that I felt as though I was on an "observation" mission. I can't really explain it, other than to say, there was so much activity going on around me, and I would just observe. I was learning. I was learning of how things were working together. I watched the missionaries. I watched the house mothers. I watched the cooks. I watched everyone. I described it as feeling as if I was "home". Though, there was a nearly numb feeling I experienced the entire time I was there. Everything was so raw. So in-your-face. I didn't have to talk so much about love those days. I lived it. I was able to love without any expectation of receiving love back. I remember when little Ana Carolina came and sat on my lap. There has always beeen something about her from the time I first saw her picture. Her eyes grabbed me every time I looked at her. And when I was at the orphanage, it was the same way. However, at first, she wanted nothing to do with me. Which was somewhat odd, as most of the children were eager to play with anyone and everyone. She was reserved. On one of the last nights, Jim and I went to the toddler house. This is where Ana Carolina was. As we were playing with children, she sat down on my lap, and I caught my breath. I don't know why. There's just something about her. We have named our daughter Ana,though she goes by Carolina. I don't know the connection, but there is one there.
I must go to bed. It's getting late, and if I don't get some rest, I won't be able to do devotions before C and J awake in the am.