The Phil Files

I sat on the back porch this morning, using Skype to call China while thinking about our experiences in Peru and praying about our foster grandchildren. In the background, I could hear the thunder of an approaching thunderstorm. The outflow of the storm had made the morning cool and the back porch very enjoyable. I thought of how this summer has changed my world, Donna’s world, and how our priorities for everything, and how we are trying to figure out how to re-orient the rest of our lives to a new and profound way of viewing God’s world.

The thunder is not so distant. Neither are China and Thailand. Neither are the precious children of Communidad de Niños Segrada Familia, and neither are our memories of two precious little boys in Kentucky or the precious young woman from Madagascar we meet with regularly — a new follower of Jesus.

Thunder. Thunder is loud. Thunder reverberates through our world. Thunder shakes our foundations and captures our attention. Thunder speaks of a great power that has been unleashed. And yes, our thunder is not so distant.

Today, this thunder is a deep reminder of two events on our trip to Peru that I cannot shake — that haunt me and beckon me back.

The first is of precious Araceli, sitting in my lap, clapping, laughing, and enjoying the good bye party one minute, then sound asleep with a sweet smile the next. Then, as the party was wrapping up, the crying and sobbing when she realized that we were leaving — not for the night, but for good. Having to pry myself from her to leave was excruciating — and to be honest, part of me is still there and always will be. Yes, the thunder is not so distant and it still reverberates in places I can’t see, but I can feel soul deep inside me.

The second rumble of thunder is the memory of the older children gathering to say good bye to us as we pulled out for that last time. I could only take a brief glimpse … it was too hard to leave. And this was my third good bye of the summer … each good bye contained no assurance I would see these children, the children that I wanted to be in my family and sleep in my house and sit at my table — some children are grown and young adults and some just babies. Yes, the thunder is not too distant and it vibrates in my soul.

Abilene is green this summer. The rain, and it’s accompaniment of thunder and lightning, have been frequent. Stuff grows in places it would normally never be in the season of wilting heat and parching dryness. New things grow in my heart, some in places where things haven’t grown in a long time. And despite the tears and deep emotion, I am thankful that the thunder is not so distant and I pray it comes my way again.