Last night, my handsome hubby and I watched the movie Blood Diamond. Mercy, there was a lot of violence, which is not my thing. But it awakened in me the same things that pop up over and over whenever I am hearing about the lives of children around the world. Child trafficking, child soldiers, all these things bring up a passion in me, which I wailed last night, is completely useless. I have three kids, one on the way. I work one or two days a week, with my children. I homeschool (just one, so not a big job yet, but it is certainly on my horizon.) I am involved in as much ministry as our young family can handle. So why, oh Lord, did you give me such a heartbreaking love for the children I do not see in our daily lives?
I am starting this blog, because I need to rant. I wish I could journal, I wish I could sit and swing back coffees with friends for the better part of a day, exchanging musings on social justice. But that isn’t where I am. I love my home, my family, my husband, my church, but I don’t often get to indulge in “me time.” So, now I am. I know my hubby loves me enough to listen to my 30,000 words that are saved for the end of the day, but I love him enough to know that while he thanks the Lord for my passion daily, he certainly doesn’t have to endure it after a hard day’s work. Maybe it will help me find ways to help, in our daily lives. Maybe it will cause someone else to care. Maybe it will do nothing, and no one will read it.
So where do I start today? I guess I’m wondering why God made me the way He did. Why do I care about injustice, even in the smallest ways? Why do I feel such a burden to be a light to His name? Well, let’s start where I am. I am raising up young children to follow the Lord. In everything. All the time. That’s important, and certainly not insignificant. And boy, do I love it. To hear our three year old, just this week, pray to Jesus for something on his heart in his own words and his own way was enough to let me float for a month. And to hear our four year old memorize scripture and look for ways to apply it in his daily life. I know that this is relevant. Even to listen to our one year old baby try and pray with us, speaking in tongues that only the Father can understand. This is good. I know the world will tell me that it is a waste, that I should be doing other things with them, blah blah blah. And I’m okay with that, I’ll be different. But why isn’t that enough? Why do I feel such an overwhelming burden for children that I don’t know, and will never see?
I guess it all comes down to, what’s the point?