You burn in my heart. Oh my goodness, how you burn.
“You weren’t even with them that long,” I reason, thinking it might somehow cool the burning (it never does). “Three months is a blink of an eye compared to a lifetime,” I add to help myself see things more logically (I never do). The simple truth is it’s three months more than enough to ingrain the weight of your souls into my heart. I discovered treasure in you and my heart followed. Reminders of that treasure are what God uses to make sure the impact of His calling isn’t confined to a time period. So Claudia and I printed pictures and found hammers and pounded nails and hung those three 8×10 canvases at eye level on the hallway wall. “So we don’t forget to pray.” Now your faces are the first thing we see when we step out of our bedroom doors in the mornings but, even if they weren’t there, how in the world could we forget? It’s easy to remember how it felt to love you until we thought we would burst, even on long days that took every last ounce of energy. It’s easy to remember how the language barrier often kept us from speaking directly to you so instead we would whisper prayers for you in a language we did know. It’s easy to remember what God taught us during that precious time: as much as we adore your little faces and crave your take-my-breath-away-hugs, the thing we care about more than anything is if you know Jesus.
I keep telling Him I want to come back and live with you. Sometimes I miss you so much it physically hurts. But He tells me He doesn’t need me there right now. Then I ask if He’ll ever take away this burning. But He tells me He gives it because what He wants is for me to pray as passionately from here as if I were loving you in person there. I’m not responsible for saving your souls – He is. But that doesn’t mean I have no responsibility. In the end, it doesn’t matter if I picked you up and played with you and loved on you a thousand times if I don’t match that number with the amount of times I’m on my face asking God to rescue my children. He’s a big God, you know. And He’s really, really good at rescuing.
I love you, my Cambo kiddos.
I’m glad for the burning.
I won’t stop praying.
And I’ll keep trusting you to Jesus.