6 girls. 3 canoes. 33 miles. 4 bald eagles. 2 full bottles of sunscreen. 12 sand scraped knees. one tube of toothpaste. 6 little cook stoves. wilderness. the buffalo river. paddles dip & swing. shoulders strain & burn. the wind blows us back. sand bar. hit the water. sopping wet tshirts. mud caked shorts. wind blown hair. sunburned legs. jerky. pedialyte. dehydrated fruit. protein balls melted into one big blob. oatmeal & pb for breakfast. melted cheese sticks yesss. a blue heron leads us home. Isaiah 41:10. destination: the white river.
we didn't exactly plan for the current we were supposed to hit that last half mile. paddle up stream? no way. we managed to cross it. or maybe Jesus picked us up & set us on a island on the other side. I had the strength to paddle in that crazy minute like never before. from there we flagged down a motor boat.
my days are full. my heart? is fuller. my God? wild. crazy. unpredictable. & Good.
you hear echoes in their hearts
broken. ashamed. beaten down. you see a civil war in her eyes. you see the rage, the hurt, the despair, the pain. you watch her push it all down and you hear her answer. good. my day was good.
child of hope
you never had the fortitude
& you knew it
& yet you cover real with counterfeit gold
the real gold is underneath
but you don't know it's there
can I show you?
can I show you you?
she squeezed her eyes shut but tears fell out anyway. she tried to hold her walls up but she needed escape. she needed to be free.
& the wall fell.
& the pain squeezed out. my chest squeezed tight.
i felt as small trust she knew
& aching she melted into my arms
my hands can only hold so much
God's hands hold both of us.
what's hard - pushing for the cracks in her walls. asking for the real behind "I'm good". watching her reach breaking point. pushing her to high expectations because you see her potential. letting her figure things out for herself instead of giving advice. allowing yourself to be the "bad guy". allowing yourself be the target of her long pent up anger. knowing your hands are too small for the reservoir of pain you open up.
what's absolutely amazing - these moments of connection. of trust. of real. the moments her walls fall down & she lets you in. when she starts giving tight hugs. watching her truly enjoy herself. that real smile. that crazy laughter. that quirky humor. that creative heart. when she surprises herself. when she exceeds her own expectations. seeing God work. through you, through them. the wild of His love. the power, the profundity of this whole experience.
it's heartbreaking. it's breathtaking. it's courage faking. it's RHR & yes I still love it.
she fashions wings from dusty dreams found in the attic of her heart