.Always on my Mind.

He's there. Crouched in the corners of my mind and tucked into the crevices of my heart. I didn't expect him to follow me so tightly home. I thought I would only be carrying one brown-eyed boy in my memory, but it's two that haunt me when my head begs sleep from my pillow. And it is the second one who is constant. Jamesy, oh I do miss him in an indescribably painful way, but at the same time his position is secure, so I can cling to that knowing. But that boy, who calls the streets of Addis home, makes me come undone. He makes me see differently - better. But it hurts more than I can bare at times.

I thought I had it figured out. I thought God was asking me to pray big, to pray the impossible, and believe that God could allow us to adopt him - an unadoptable street boy. Despite the protests of my husband (simply not wanting me to set my eyes on something completely futile and have my heart totally devastated), I prayed and pleaded and planned that somehow soon another brown-eyed boy - a boy I truly feel a motherly connection to - would become my son. But I think God is leading me another way. Bits and pieces of a brainstorm, a crazy scheme are formulating in my mind. It will take God to piece it together, but I am pleading in this direction for now.

We bought him shoes today. I have no idea if they are the right size, but I pray that they are or that he can sell them and have the money. I am filling a back pack for him. I am not sure of what. The shoes and maybe clothes and food, and a letter from me and a photo of us. He gave me his best when his dirty little hand thrust the beaded bracelet at me. I wish I could give him the world - a home. I want to tell him of Jesus and the hope that he can find in him. I am praying for this boy's redemption - both physical and spiritual.

He's always on my mind. He was there today as we shopped for diapers and wipes. It was his face I saw when we walked into a mall. I thought I needed to buy Jamesy a coming-home outfit. It was our first time trying to shop after Africa. And we couldn't do it. I wanted to vomit as I thought how all of it was frivolous, unnecessary, and how much money I had wasted over my life time in such a place on items that were not needed. Even in a thrift store I wrestled over a $2.00 pair of shoes that I did not need. I kept thinking about the other pairs that sat in my closet and the thousands of people all over the world that have none. How do I reconcile that? And how do I reconcile the fact that I bought them? When do I go back to normal? Or do I want to? I just don't care about the stuff anymore. All I want is to be in Africa and empty the rest of my life into those people and show them hope in Jesus. And I am angry that God is not calling us there.

But I am begging Him to do something big through us, through me. I'm just waiting for the next move and thinking about two little brown-eyed boys whom I lost my heart to. How can they be the least of these the way they occupy the most of my mind?