today: one morning i woke up

…my purpose remains
the art of losing myself…

-Joel Houston


In a world that slipped and slips away from the paradigm that creates wholeness and freedom, sometimes it amazes me, time and again, how fully amazing it is to live surrounded by people who love me and who I get to love. Sunday was full of smiles and laughs. And it was full of God. And I don’t have much of anything figured out these days, but I am okay with that. Well, kind of. Tuesday will be filled with work and shoes for kids in Mexico and photographs of a girl about to step into adulthood. These are the tasks placed in my hands for this time. This is a good life, I think.

Today was a (mostly) full stop. This time of year every week feels like hard sprint, and Mondays are hunched over at the end, guzzling air, most of the time with a grin celebrating the finish. This pace may not be sustainable 24-7-365, but the get-to-dos are ample. Hopefully the purpose behind it all has less to do with money in the pockets (though that matters… this girl loves to eat, among other needed things) and more to do with living for the something more, living with Someone more. If I am going to lose myself into something, may it be His story not the flimsy fabrications I come up with when I try to go it alone.


One response to “today: one morning i woke up

  1. Today Erin, I read a story on CNN about the Afghan boy dancers – abused and forced to dance as girls. One boy said that he wished God would just kill them, as it would be better to be dead. I wept. I thought, “Oh God, what am I doing here? How can I make a difference?”

    I was telling Jeff this, and he said that today at the construction bazar, he was pulling out, and as he was handing over his 10 som for parking, the attendant said, “Jengishbek Baike!” (Uncle Jeff)

    He was a homeless boy whom we had fed for 2 years. He was a special little guy. We had him into our home several times. He once asked for shoes, and we told him we trusted him, and gave him money for shoes. (Many would spend it on huffing gas, alcohol, or drugs.) He came back and showed us his shoes (2 sizes too big and stuffed with newspaper so he could grow into them) and gave us change.

    We stayed in intermittent contact for several years, but lost contact with him when we lived in Jalalabad. So, seeing him again was amazing. He is doing well. He has had work and is living with a family. He might make it. I think our prayers for him and reaching out as the touch of God to him made a difference in his life.

    May the hand of God reach the Afghan boys forced to dance.

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