dropping the mop {how to find stillness everyday}

Mama-hood.  I did not come to it naturally.  Rather, I stared through tears at a TV screen filled with wide dark eyes and gaunt ebony faces. I watched small fingers sketch Crayola landscapes of the very adult atrocities of genocide. These were the smallest witnesses. And so the stirring of God in the womb of my dreams began.

Nine months later I was bouncing over dirt paths a world away searching out entrance into a place most were intent on escaping.  Three days shy of 29, this simple pale-faced, one-legged city-girl who still thinks mascara belongs in a survival kit rode ten hours down rebel-frequented roads in what is now South Sudan to a dusty outback border town called Yei.

The echoes of what I had been told rang loud in my ears: “You crazy white woman.  You’ll be dead in months. You’re insane. You can’t go in alone. No money. No connections. No team.” But I wasn’t alone and I had connections in the one place that mattered most: heaven. … {Keep reading the rest of this post over on my sweet friend’s writing space where I am scribbling these thoughts today. And it’s my birthday, so we want to give you a present. She’s hosting the party…}