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I'm kneeling in the sand, and it's eerily quiet all around me. Final words have been exchanged with the villagers, and the children are ready. We are ready. Nicole and I have come out to the shore ahead of the group, hoping to capture and freeze this "walking out" in time. Much discussion has evolved around this very moment – what will it look like? what will we feel? will it be all we hoped for?
I hear noise, and they are coming. I holler at Nicole, and we get to work. And though perhaps slightly anticlimactic in reality, it truly is all I hoped for. It happens in less than three minutes, but I'm shooting as quickly as I can as a million thoughts run through my head. As they pass by, I watch the expressions on Chris & Stacey's faces. It is sheer joy. The testimony these two are telling with their lives is bringing His Kingdom on earth; I am grateful beyond words to witness and be apart of something of this magnitude. Chris passes by and jokingly says something like "stop crying and grab a hand"; I'm wearing sunglasses – how does he know?! It's just one of those emotional times for us all, as we anticipated it would be. I fall in next to a little boy of about 8. In that instant, I think... every bit of struggle and question, every sleepless night, every personal sacrifice – it was worth it, a hundred times over. This is "thin space" as it's been described to me – where the space between Heaven and earth is but a sliver.
I'm knee-deep in cloudy water, just as we are about to leave the Adovepke shore. The kids are clambering in the boat, huddling in a group at the very front as the villagers line the shoreline to see them off. They have been gracious, dressing the children in their best clothes, some even slipping money for the journey into their fingers as we depart. I watch the faces of the children as they settle in, wondering what's running through their heads. I see every expression on their faces – excitement, trepidation, resignation (where are they taking me now?), perhaps a little fear in a few. I think, if they will but wait and see, just one more day, and then they will know. They will know they are loved and chosen and called by name to a hope and a future. I hop in the boat before it gets out too deep, letting out held breath. 24 children are now in our hands. And they are making their final journey across the lake for a very, very long time.
My friend Chris C. does some incredible mission work at With One Hope in Honduras. He writes, "I believe there are moments in life that mark us. Moments that stretch our hearts and push us to the brink emotionally, spiritually, physically. There are moments that leave such an impact that they become a part of who we are – good or bad – and help define who we are going to be. We all react differently to these moments. Some of us harden our hearts, others weep, others are filled with determination, and still others fall to their knees in prayer. We are all different and experience these moments differently. But one thing remains true for us all: after we have lived through such a moment we can never be the same again; we are forever changed."
I could not have said it better myself.
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