Today I write for five minutes flat and then join others over at Gypsy Mama to encourage
each other. It’s a writing exercise. An encouragement exercise. Gypsy Mama says, “We finger paint with words. We try to remember what it was like to just write without worrying if it’s just right or not. Where your words are welcome, just as they are!” Join us. Forgive me today, I went over the time limit by more than a minute–to finish the story and then a few more minutes to add pictures.
Sometimes people spot faith and mistake it for bravery.
Following a dream we had to involve our family with an orphanage in an impoverished country, God lead us to new friends in Honduras who have a family of 24 orphans. We took our whole family. The girls were 5 and 7.
I was excited. But in telling others, they would bring up concerns. I had never thought of their worries. But listening to them I wondered, “Am I a fool not to be worried?” They called us brave for taking our kids. I didn’t feel brave. Maybe I was naive. More likely God was leading us forward.
We arrived in Honduras, anxious and hopeful. We arrived on the day of a political coup. The Honduran President had been wakened from his bed and ushered out of the country by the military. More than a week of unrest and uncertainty followed. Airports were closed. Security tightened. Guards with big machine guns were in places like the grocery store. I wondered how our story would end, but I knew God had brought us to an amazing ministry of a couple who loved the Lord more than the world. And to a little tropical paradise that only knew what was happening due to media. We went to the beach everyday. We played daily with kids and dogs and parrots and ocean waves. We felt relieved from the heat by the daily rain of the tropical forest. It was everything we hoped.
The airports opened up two days before our departure. People called us brave when we returned. Brave does not describe me, but in that moment of life I was full of faith.