i remember those mornings in tanzania.

I remember waking up to my leader's alarm and hearing that same song as we roused ourselves from sleep.  I remember huddling in my sleeping bag to hide from the chill as long as possible.  I remember the breakfast of noodles, cucumber, chapati and eggs.  I remember cup after cup of steaming hot tea.  I remember laughing at stories about the sleep-talkers and soaking in my beautiful team.  I remember that peace that came with knowing that hours of time in the secret place with Him awaited me.


I remember hoping it would never end, and I remember the feeling of denial that it had to.

I remember a lot of things, and often they make my heart hurt.  Like the tears and giggles of my Uganda babies.  The Kenyan street boys.  Little Ezra, sick and not even a day old- the joy of his mother when I prayed over him. My baby girl.  Those teenage girls at Beulah teaching me to dance and loving me even more when I utterly failed.  The woman who had been sick for six years weeping as we laid hands on her.  That same woman's neighbor, laughing for joy at the sight of us in her house.  Joshua getting so excited about my major.  My team just being my team, ridiculous and loving and imperfect and beautiful.  

I remember, and I wish it wasn't in my past.  I wish it was my present.  But I am here, not there, learning to trust that God is still just as present, just as powerful, just as relevant... And learning to trust in the promise that moments like those I remember also exist in my future.