I am terrible at this.
By 'this' I mean Everything.
Okay, so I make a mean chocolate cake. But that's about it.
It probably doesn't help that learning Kiswahili has cut off my legs at the knees. Trying to learn how to impact this culture has me feeling helpless. I know nothing. I am not cut out for this. I am not good at this.
It probably doesn't help that I just had the worst evening ever with one of my children. The last words this child said to me as I left their room tonight were, "FINE! I DON'T NEED YOUR HELP!" and I didn't even go back in and deal with it because the entirety of the last two hours had been filled with a screaming, ranting, hard-hearted child, various forms of discipline and one-way conversations which accomplished nothing, and a knot in my stomach that got worse with every passing minute. (Gil is not home tonight!)
It probably doesn't help that today one of my best friends has been undergoing brain surgery in the States. Also today, a distraught Tanzanian friend told me about her sister who suddenly died. Also today, another distraught Tanzanian friend told me about the serious health problems of his grandmother, who raised him. He has no mother, no father, and she is all he has.
You know, one of those days.
Should I even be here? Should I even be doing this? And why on earth am I trying to adopt another child when I can't even control the ones I have?
I told this child tonight, God's grace is there. It is so big and wide and deep. But you must accept it.
Your great grace. Oh, such grace!
The grace for the child is the same grace for me. Your grace finds me.
Grace in a sleeping child.
In a new day tomorrow.
In the beauty of this place.
In the hope of the cross.
And maybe even chocolate cake.