A Better Story (Part 2)

Update: I went for another run today. I still walked a lot. Tomorrow I walk, solely walk. It makes running easier.

So yesterday after I chose to walk instead of run, Sara Groves instead of Glee, pray instead of complain, these words were rather pressing:

we come with beautiful secrets

we come with purposes written on our hearts

we come to every new morning,

with possibilities only we can hold

i want to add to the beauty,

to tell a better story

it comes in small inspirations

it brings redemption to life and work

it comes in loving community

it comes in helping a soul find its worth

redemption comes in strange places,

small spaces

calling out the best of who we are

and this is grace: an invitation to be beautiful

And as I listened to this and reflected on winter and the cold air and the barren trees - I felt the hope that creation carries in beauty and burning lungs. Then I was taken to a very different place, a very different home than this one.

Twins, abandoned, malnourished, dehydrated, sick.

Those same twins, a few months later. Happy, healthy, loved.

THAT is a better story. The small acts that brought these two children into the arms of people who could mobilize to help them, the formula bought by village people to feed these two, the doctor who could care for them, the arms that were there to hold and feed and cuddle and console.

From barren to growing - a reminder of faithfulness and the impending kingdom of God, that we are left to carry on. That, as in Acts, we are here to point people to a better story, to add to the beauty, to carry the light, redemption and grace.

But now dear friends, my heart is heavy for a new one. Another one to add to the list of the countless names and faces I have shown you in the past few months.

Matthew. Age 7 months. Sick and starved, left on a dirty, cement floor alone.

He's been taken in! He has new arms to love him and feed him and cuddle him, just like the twins above. He has a new family of nearly 60 brothers and sisters to grow up alongside. It's a long, hard, uphill road ahead of this little guy. But seeing Hannah and Jeremiah's faces now proves that all is not lost.

And for each of these stories I have countless others. The Lord is continually prodding me, whispering something that my heart begins to stir with, but I don't know what it is. But I do know that when I think about my life, no matter what I do, I want to be adding to the beauty, pointing out the redemption in this very broken world. And whether that is with restaveks or rape victims or special needs children, I hope that I won't be too afraid to pull myself out of comfort and complacency.

Maybe that's one thing running will teach me.