Terrorism.
Violence.
Hate.
Discrimination.
Injustice.
Bodies everywhere.
The past two weeks I have been blessed with the opportunity to sit with a good chunk of our families and catch up, introduce myself, and just take a front row seat to what it looks like beyond the threshold... in every sense of the way.
It didn't hit me till after I left a small apartment off Codell where a half dozen little girls all grabbed my hands and legs and ushered me to their "playground," which is actually just a spot out front before the street and the dirt meet and there was a soccer ball just waiting for us.
It didn't hit me till I sat in a Nepali home that smelled like curry and vegetables and was offered orange Fanta in a tea cup out of the china cabinet. And the most intelligent young lady told me that her life was for the better now that she knows us, but she still wishes she understood English more.
It didn't hit me till I had a young man say he was over the struggles life keeps handing him. Not having dad around sucks. Having a sucky dad right in reach isn't any better. He might as well take to the streets since that's all there is. Fathers Day isn't fun for everyone, and the streets have no mercy.
It didn't hit me till I was watching video footage of a baby girl crying and hugging her mom because she just saw her dad shot and killed and questioning if her mom was next. Knowing there was no victory to be found here. Only hurt, loss, death, injustice, and sin.
It really didn't hit me till I looked myself in the mirror and realized I had more hate, anger, exhaustion, and an unforgiving spirit, in my heart than love these days.
Pray for me,
The tears have hit.
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