In her arms

Oh the last 11 days have truly never ceased to surprise me. Showered with blessings and break through’s they have been, with also great burdens and bruises that I have simultaneously endured.


 

I’ve heard a lot of words this past week. I’ve gone deep into the mess all over again and realized that there is a need everywhere I look… And it has made me uncomfortable, it has made me anxious, it has made me crumble.

 

And as I soaked our dining room table with my tears this morning and reached for yet another tissue again and again, my own deficits began to become more apparent to me than ever.

 

I saw myself in the way that I see my girls.

 

I became one of them.

 

The girl’s lack of their own parents in their life became my own as I longed to be in the presence of my mama.

 

The girl’s lack of discipline and responsibility became my own as I wanted to give up the calling and mission He has given me here once and for all.

 

The girl’s process of emotional healing became my own as I reflected on the reality that God is still in the business of being my Healer, my Father, my Great Physician.

 

The girl’s insecurities and questioning and pain became my own as my identity began to crumble and the lies that I have made the habit of pushing away began to take ground over the truth planted in my heart.

 

And as we began praying and asking for the Holy Spirit to speak over us what He would want to say, Negra, one of our caregivers, placed her hand on my shoulder. My brokenness wanted to push it away but as the Lord began to soften my bitterness I let it rest there and put my hand on top of hers.

 

The more her touch radiated on the inside, a desire to be close began to well up within me.

 

At first I wanted a hug, and I imagined receiving a big, overwhelming embrace in her arms. I pictured it in my mind’s eye, and even then I didn’t want her to let me go.

 

And by the end of our staff meeting… Through my tears and wails and cries....

 

I was not only hugged, but held.

 

I ended up on our Negra’s lap... hugging her neck... unable to let up my grip... I just let myself go and was overcome by the deepest desire to be known and loved. Understood and valued. Honored and treasured. Affirmed and desired.

 

I told her how much I needed her in that moment. I missed my country. I missed my family. I missed the safe place in my own mama’s arms.

 

She let out soft sighs and told me I always had a place on her lap, that as she has dreamed of having rocking chairs on our property to rock our girls as a way of therapy, I too would be welcomed into that safe place of healing and refuge with her and the Father.

 

It’s a humbling place to know you are called into a service when you are still sorting through your own pain and past as well. Things come up that you thought were dealt with, done with and conquered, but I have realized that God is desperate to bring everything into alignment, and wholeness is the manner in which He is healing the world back to.

 

He’s just too good of a Father to leave us with holes and hurts that might be hidden but still reside deep within.

 

I’ve realized that my purpose for being here is bigger than a service, a mission, or even a calling.


It has to do with my story, their stories, and how we fit into the Father’s story together. My past in conjunction with their pasts, my future in conjunction with their futures, and us together in a present that feels so excruciatingly difficult but surely has a place in this adventure, relationship, and story that God invites us to be part of with each new day that comes.

 

- Carina (Corinne Carver, Intern)

Corinne Carver