Teach My Song to Rise to You

I am not a crier.  So when tears dripped down my cheeks mid-way through a session of MegaBloks this morning, Josiah just looked at me thoughtfully.  He had been singing along, cheerfully, to this song:

Hearing my son join the voices of these beautiful children, many of whom had suffered in ways I cannot even imagine, something in me broke. To me, missions had always meant Africa: declaring the goodness of God in lands of poverty, war, and disease.  But God may have something (or a somewhere) different in mind for us.

The concept of "unreached people" had not even crossed my consciousness before I met Ethan.  Now, it defines nearly all of our future plans.  At this point, I do not know where God will teach our song to rise to Him.  My tears may have been over the loss of the dream of working with African orphans in a place like Uganda.  Or perhaps, over the granting of a dream I cannot yet even envision.  Wherever we go, I know we will need Him desperately.


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