As much as I hate to talk about it, to think about it, or to process it, the fact is, on Friday evening I will say goodbye to all the kids, and on Saturday I will drive to the States, board a plane and fly away. Like so many others that have come, I will leave. That word—leave—it seems to resonate. So few stay. However, the kids do. And the needs do. The needs linger behind—those for therapy, for education, for basic things as well; but more than anything—the need for love and for attention. And the thought of leaving—of leaving the kids who the Lord has filled me with such a great love for—well it breaks me.
So I must rest in the same one who gave me that love—the same one who brought me here, and the same one who now is leading me away or at least for a time. And I rest in him and in his promises. But you God see the trouble of the afflicted. You consider the grief and take it in hand. The victims commit themselves to you; you are the helper of the fatherless. Psalm 10:14 A Father to the Fatherless, a Defender of widows, is God in His holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families; he leads out the prisoners with singing but the rebellious live in a sunscorched land. Psalm 68:5 He knows the plans He has for each of those kids and they are plans to prosper them and not to harm them—to give them a hope and future. (Jeremiah 29:11) He knows every thought and knows every part of them, for He knit them together in their mother’s womb; each is fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139)
And I believe our savior never fails. And even when it seems all hope is gone, his promise never changes. I believe He loves them. I believe He has a plan. He knows the pain. He knows the strife and troubles. I believe He knows the needs. And I believe He sees it all. I believe He will help them. And I believe He is here. He promises that He will never leave them. And I believe that. I believe greater things are yet to come.