These days, I can’t keep up with the laundry basket, overflowing in my bathroom.. much less my inbox that overflows with emails, and this here blog that has gone silent for nearly a month now.
I steal moments, here and there. When kids fall asleep on the living room floor. Or early in the morning, just as the coffee pot lights up and the sky turns pink. Moments, when kids stretch across our couches and the carpet, occupied with a movie for 10 minutes.
These snippets, stolen here and there throughout the rushing of the days… they keep us going.
In my mind, I try to appreciate the moments… the washing of popcorn bowls, piled high next to the sink after Fun Nights. Good morning shouts of excitement from the diaper twins when we walk down to the orphanage every morning. The little ones who come on a regular basis (and at the most inconvenient of times) to spend a dollar in our little shop and count their savings in my hand. The rain that pelts the tin roof overhead. Carl’s excitement to read, and read, and read. Sunshine that pours through our windows early in the evening. The soccer games played out in the yard.
I etch the moments into my mind, as if they are tangible fragments of time I can trace. I remind myself of the way I will miss this busy during the long and lonely days that are Alaska. Right now, that seems near impossible, when all I ache for is one hour of uninterrupted time and a night of good sleep.
The second-hand on the clock ticks, counting the moments. I think of all the moments that don’t feel like enough. The moments we give, and give, and give. The moments that refresh our weary hearts. The moments the worst of my character comes through.. the impatience within my soul, the frustration in my voice, the cynicism of the words I say behind closed doors. Moments of pure sweetness, mixed among moments of total insanity. All of these, moments.
Early in the morning, before the rush and the knocking and the chaos begin, I find in myself a mix of fear and curiosity, wondering what moments this day will hold. With a whisper, I pray He uses them. And then I pray He makes up for all the moments I fail.. the moments my frustration, doubts, judgment, and impatience get the best of me.
For here, we find that we are constantly being stretched beyond ourselves. And the stretching of these moments reveals our deep need for Christ to come, and be enough.. to be selfless where we are selfish, humble when we are prideful, patient where we are frustrated, loving when we are hardened. Moments that make us press hard into who He is, as we are emptied of ourselves.
Haiti’s heat makes my hair stick to the back of my neck as the sun beats the tin roof overhead. Kids sit scattered across the living room and kitchen, working on sponsor letters and watching Lego Batman for the 3rd time this week. The clock on the wall continues ticking away the moments of our last 2 weeks here. But whatever they hold, however fast or slow the pass us by, we’ll give Him the moments we have left.