Beautiful wrinkled hands. Together.

Sitting beside each other on the sofa. Surrounded by their grandchildren. I watched them. Adoringly. She took his hand and put her fingers through his. He took the youngest grandchild's hand and did the same. Generations. Hand in hand. I caught them looking at each other. It was a look I had never seen them give each other before. Not a look I even have words for, actually. The picture was taken and the kids got up. Just the two of them on the sofa now. Still hand in hand.

He has cancer. Worse than they thought. Both in their 80's. Grey hair. No hair. Age spots. Beautiful wrinkled hands. Together. I watched them and couldn't help but wonder....... do they think about that thing they had their worst fight about -now?

Does he care about that thing that always drove him crazy - now? Do you think she cares that he always forgets that thing that he always forgets - now? Do they remember that time they weren't sure they loved each other anymore or that time they wish they had maybe married someone else?

How much does resentment veer it's head - now? How often are they angry with one another - now? How big are the tiny things - now? How much grace do they give each other, how often do they say "I love you", how much more patient, loving, gentle, kind are they to each other...

Now?

There was a client I had who others consistently said was in the Mafia. I'm not convinced he wasn't. I'm actually a little more convinced he might have been. He denies it wholeheartedly. Interesting soul. Like no one I had ever met. (and yes, I was granted permission to write this : )

"I am getting away for a few weeks to do some things"

Vagueness was something I was used to with him. But he was more vague than normal this time.

"Anything special?"

"No, just need to get away for a few weeks." I left it at that. Two weeks came and went and I saw him again. And he was different. He was lighter. He was more transparent. He was softer.

"How was your last few weeks" I asked. "Pretty good, actually" His eyes sparkled a bit.

He went on to tell me that the last few weeks he went on a "little journey." I probed and he answered and explained and I became more and more fascinated and amazed. Of his stories. Of his journey. Of his - well - pilgrimage of sorts. But he didn't know it was a pilgrimage at all. He really didn't think it was anything special. But it was. Fascinating, actually.

"Something inside of me told me I was supposed to do it. I decided I needed to make some changes. 95 percent of the people haven't done the things I have done. And they shouldn't have done them. I needed to get right for me"

What was that "getting right"? Three things. Three things he came up with on his own with no prompting from me. At least not that I was aware of.

"Forgiveness. Atonement. Reflection. For two weeks."

He went on to say that throughout this road trip he made a lot of stops. He visited those in his life he needed to forgive or ask forgiveness of. He met with them. Talked with them. And decided to let go of what he had been holding on to or apologize for what he needed to ask forgiveness from. Then we went to those people that he needed atonement with. Those who he felt had harmed him, hurt him, or problems that were still "unsolved" He had conversations he needed to have and did things he felt he needed to do. Going from place to place. Talking to person after person. Letting go of burden after burden. And along the way? There was reflection. Reflection on who he was. Who he wanted to be. Changes he needed to make for the rest of his life.

He wouldn't call himself a man of faith, really. He is skeptical about organized Christianity. But there are things he values.

Amends. Reconciliation. Forgiveness. Reflection.

He didn't have cancer. He was not looking death in the eye. He was making some changes before he got there. Because he needed to. Because something inside of him told him he should. So he did. Simple as that.

"She is a good nurse for taking care of me" He said as she got up to get him something to eat. Somehow you could tell she delighted in it. His appetite was getting a little better.

"I bet you would do the same for her...." I said. And he would.

Because that's what love does. The sad things is that sometimes it takes the fear of loosing it to cause us to treasure it.

I watched him look at his grand children when they weren't looking and get teary. It was the first time I had ever seen tears in his eyes. Hugging him goodbye. It was tighter than normal. Silent crying you could hear beneath her breath. Leaving them to be with each other. To love each other.

I drove away in thought of how precious life is and what it would be like if we valued it as much along the way as we did before it was getting ready to be taken from us. If we understood things - now - like we would - then. Wondering if that is even possible. Somehow I think it is.

What am I taking from this? A lot. I'm getting ready to go on my own two week journey, actually. Two weeks before Easter. A holiday of freshness. Of new beginnings. Of resurrections. A time for Forgiveness. Atonement. Reflection. A time of holding on to the treasures in life and letting go of the burdens. It's really as simple as that sometimes.

Father, I am sitting here listening to the rain, watching the sky dance with lightening, listening to the thunder roar and crackle and demand attention. Candle beside me and all around is quiet. Thank you for that. For the quiet. For the calm before, after, and somehow, during the storm. For the moments of fresh purity we can have that puts all things in perspective and causes us to be uncomfortable. Uncomfortable enough to make the changes we need to make. To treasure those things we should treasure and to release those things blurring our vision. I thank you tonight for the freedom in forgiveness. For the possibility of atonement. For the power of reflection. I give you these next few weeks as a pilgrimage closer to your heart and the possibility of making all things new. I am graciously and humbly.....

Yours, b

The Story

There is a story of a little girl in Congo. Her name is Yvette. When she was two years old she was found in the bush bleeding. Her mother picked her up and placed her in the arms of a man who was visiting the country. She had been raped by rebel soldiers. I saw her and her mother about a month ago. She is well and strong and loves God. She will be a great leader and woman of God. Why?

Because someone believed in her. Because someone believed she was bigger than her past and stronger than her greatest pain.

Because of that moment, there is a center eXile partner's with called the Dina Center specifically for girls who have been sexually violated because of the wars in Congo.

There is a story of a boy in Uganda. His name is Norbert. When he was around 10 years old he was abducted from his village and forced to killed his parents. With a machete. I saw him last year and he put a tiny chain on my wrist to remember him by as we walked back to our huts hand and hand. It was after he had so bravely and tearfully told his story of heartache in front of many other children who had experienced similar pain.

I washed his feet as he cried. And I cried too.

He is now a teenager at Village of Hope Orphanage in Gulu, Uganda. He is there

Because someone believed in him. Because someone believed he was bigger than his past and stronger than his greatest pain.

There is a little girl in America. She lives inside of the body of a 38 year old women. A women who, because of her past and her pain, had given up on herself and on life. But she found purpose in the story of a girl in The Congo named Yvette and a boy in Uganda named Norbert. Because of those children and many more, her greatest heartache became her greatest ministry. And Grace came full circle.

Because God never stopped believing in her. Because there is always purpose in our pain.

I am that little girl. I am that women

When I went to Congo almost three years ago now, I returned broken. I hardly left my room for three days. I had never seen hopelessness like that before. Child soldiers asked me to be their mothers. Mothers wanted to give me their daughters. In some areas of Congo, over half of the women have been raped. There are more child soldiers in Congo than anywhere else in the world. It has been deemed one of the worse places to be a child. There are over 6 rebel groups there and each month in the area of Goma alone, 150 are rescued from rebel forces. I had never seen children so traumatized.

A few months later exile international was founded with a dream of creating an art therapy program for war-affected children and former child soldiers. It has since blossomed into a wonderful mission of providing trauma care to hundreds of children on the ground through trips and supporting the work of local leaders, providing trauma care workshops, and being honored to be deeply involved in advocacy work in DC.

Within a few weeks of returning from Congo, I wrote a blog called “Looking Darkness in the Eye” In that blog I wrote about my wrestling with God. Where was He in all of this pain? I couldn’t find Him. I finally came to understand where He was. And it was beautiful.

He was beside of them when they were abducted. He was beside of them when they were being raped at the age of 8 by rebel forces. He was beside of them when they were forced to carry a pistol because they were too small to carry an AK47 at the age of 7. He was beside of them.

The question is not where is God. The question is where are we?

There is a monthly giving program that we have called SING that starts at $7 a month. It started with a question: How Does Your Life Sing? On our website you will hear Benjamin’s voice when you play the video. His father was killed in the wars of Congo. He says:

“When you begin living for something bigger than yourself you find your self. Your purpose. Your song.” And this he asks “Will you sing with us?”

And I want to ask you – will you Sing with us? With them?

We just returned from Congo a few months ago training around 100 local leaders and working with around 200 children. 24 of those were once child soldiers. Many of those have killed. Most of those do not want to return home for fear of being re-abducted again. All of them love God. Their dream is to return to their villages they fought in to begin peace clubs to teach others about forgiveness. When I asked them to draw their heart wounds – they drew pictures of guns, soldiers, dead bodies, and blood. They performed a 30 minute drama re-enacting their abduction from school, being shown how to use a gun, being forced to kill, slowly assimilating into rebel-hood, being hidden from the UN when attempted to be rescued. And finally? Being rescued and returned to society.

While praying to God about what to share with you, I started asking myself. What would they tell you? What would those 24 boys tell you ? What would Yvette tell you if she were here? What would Norbert say?

They would first tell you not to pity them. And I would double that. The children we work with have more strength and resilience than all of us combined. Please don’t pity them.

I often wonder what would happen if we began learning from those whom we feel we need to save. Outside of Jesus, they have become my greatest teachers.

Secondly, they would probably ask you to listen to them. To help them. To believe in them. I would encourage you to do the same.

Our dreams for these children are not just that they survive war, but that they become the leaders of peace and forgiveness in their communities because of what they have survived.

Frank Warren has a saying “It is the children that the world almost breaks who grow up to save it.” Our hope is that the children we work with change the course of war in their countries.

Because someone believed that they were bigger than their past and stronger than their greatest pain.

So as you watch this video and think about these stories, my wish for you is not that you are heavy hearted – but that you are excited about the opportunity to help the ending of one of these children’s lives look different than their beginning.

As you hear their stories or read about them on our blog I would ask you to learn from them. To hear them. To listen…..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJ4HSnLf-P8

http://www.exileinternational.org