Only One

Sigh.

With heavy-hearts we continue to wait. We knew the average wait time for a referral was 3-6 months after our dossier was submitted, but what we didn't expect was for the worst famine in history to hit during those months of waiting. The waiting is tough in the best of circumstances. In the worst of circumstances, I can see it wouldn't take long for it to become more than any human could bear. We are there... waiting. With so many suffering and watching their children and parents and friends and community die right before their eyes, it feels so overwhelming. Though my heart breaks and agonizes for those parents holding their children knowing they cannot protect them from this horror, I would be lying if I didn't say I am broken, longing, yearning, and literally aching for

only one.

This morning as I continued my study of David and read about his life on the run from King Saul (Saul was trying to kill David), Beth Moore pointed out the responses David had to his circumstances. First, he prayed and then he cried out (Psalm 142). Next, he complained only to God and rehearsed his trust in God. Lastly, he begged for God's presence and confessed his desperate need for God to intervene. Big sigh. And some people think the Word isn't alive and applicable. I am so grateful today for this tangible reminder to me of my need for God to intervene and for my need to cry out. Praying is one thing. Crying out... that's altogether different. So, today I find myself on bended knee with laundry all around in the laundry room floor.... Crying out on behalf of our daughter. In the midst of millions who are dying and suffering I am praying for a supernatural release of the oppression from the famine as well as the oppression rebels are putting on the beautiful people of Somalia. I am praying God will open their spiritual eyes to the deception from the enemy and break their hearts to their deeds. I am also praying in the midst of it very specifically for

only one.

Together, Mark and I, are praying for a quick referral, one that comes sooner than average. We do, after all, serve the Mountain Mover, the One who does the impossible, the One who longs to hear our hearts cries. I believe Him when He says He came for the broken-hearted, to set the captives free. I trust He loves our daughter more than we do, knowing her since the beginning of time. I know He loves her more than we do, even when my heart wonders how. I know His grace is more than adequate to cover her needs and the needs of those in Ethiopia, Somalia, and all of East Africa. Just this past Sunday I had the privilege of teaching first graders about grace: our undeserved gift. One of the games we played we discussed how God doesn't love those who go to church more than those who don't, or older people more than younger people, or boys more than girls, etc. As I pondered that truth more and more I have seen how often our American culture lives as though God DOES love us more than the rest of the world. Conviction struck me to my core. As we seek ways to be His hands and feet to those suffering unlike any suffering we've ever known we cry out to

Only One.


I have been reminded in recent days about how our country mourned together ten years ago on September 11. Though the twin towers weren't in Tennessee and I didn't personally know anyone who died that day, my heart ached and I cried for our country and for those who lost so much. It felt personal. Today, I know all of Africa is hurting for their country, crying for those who have lost and continue to lose so much. As the rebels continue to invade and take over Somalia, taking all the relief being sent, I know the attack feels personal to them all. And today, it feels personal to me. I have a hurting daughter who is likely hungry today, alone with nothing to call her own, except her name. As our family prays for a quick referral and for protection over her health, spirit, and safety we rest in the promises, security, love, comfort, and Name of

Only One.