Everything Is Good

 Yesterday:

It was to a three story brick building on a narrow street on the south side of Chicago we took the three children. We parked on the curb lined by brick apartments with vacant windows and bars on doors and garbage scattered on the ground. From a side-street behind us, I heard three fast raps, like gun shots. I felt suddenly frightened for the three young ones. A mass of clothes lay plastered to the steps of an empty home. The children burst out of the van, onto their streets, yelling. Excitement. Children are so resilient—so ignorant. One has only seen five winters and the eldest is a baby Christian, the tenderest of His sheep. They walked up the sidewalk with their Daddy Derek searching out their house where their mom was waiting for them with big sister and baby brother. Against red brick towers, they seemed almost swallowed up, Emmanuel wearing his Burger King crown and looking so small—a child king being sent into the thick of battle. I pray that his faith is strong enough to pull him through.

...We left them in an apartment barely furnished. Mattresses for the beds were coming the next day, or so she said. The young king cried and we had to leave him there, leaning against his bed. Angel cried when Mom said goodbye and Jeremiah began to wail as we walked out the door and closed it behind us. We made our way down four flights of dirty steps, empty-handed. How could such a mean thing happen and we have to walk away? But God’s peace is real and so is his grace. Everything will be alright. Everything is good, somehow.

When you think of Emmanuel, pray for him and his family.

***

We found ourselves at the local park this morning. Two little children were there to play with us. They had dark hair and eyes and bad little grins and they ran to us and attacked us with hugs. The boy had dimples on his mouth, under his lip, and all his front teeth were gone. The girl’s glossy bangs fell in her eyes and her clothes were sizes too big for her. Mom and Dad sat with the lady on the park bench and talked stuff over; we played tag. It was effortless. They were easy. I prayed: Lord, the other thing was a test, right, and we made it through. If this is next, I think I can do it.

God gives incredible grace. I don’t doubt now what it is I want. I want what He wants, of course, and He provides the peace. I chased Lizette, the little girl, and grabbed her and she sat down and looked up at me with such a hopeful smile and asked, “Are we coming home with you?” I told her, "Maybe. But, today we just came to play."

We played kickball and ate cookies. That little boy is competitive and, also, he wouldn’t tell me his name after the first time, so I had to call him Cookie Monster. You should have seen how many he ate. We built a castle in the sand using the plastic juice cups and I found myself able to understand the speech of regular five and seven-year-olds and totally enjoying their imaginations. When we had to go, we gave them hugs goodbye and told them we’d see them soon and we’d meet their other brothers. We parted ways at the sandpit, but the boy came running after me for another cookie, then ran away with it in his mouth. Walking down the path a second later, I heard, “Wait for me!” and turned around. He ran to us, shoes in hand, and bowled into me. He attacked Tasha and Calvin next and then waved and yelled goodbye till we got to the parking lot.

Things are looking bright.

***

I painted a canvas black for a portrait today. It’s drying. Soon we’ll see what happens when this child wields a brush and oils. I’m hardly confident—but, I shouldn’t be saying so, should I?  

Besides that, I’m writing the outline for a story I will write for my final course assignment. Things are going well, I think.

Now, I must go to bed. Goodnight.

***

[Cool thing: Goodbye=God be with ye]