Thursday, September 23, 2010
"Tears are coming out of you." I set down the phone. Jack watches my hands, stares at my face.
I crouch down, poke out bottom lip. "I'm sad," I say.
"You have tears coming out of you." I hug him, shoulders to my chest. Four years old.
My momma called. A boy we know in a far away hospital has malaria. And sickle-cell anemia. His daddy died a year ago. Malaria too. The boy, he's four.
When Craig visited the Kenyan hospital far, far away, he told me, "You go there to die."
I gather my children and we pray for four-year-old Emmanuel. We pray and pray and gather strength.
Our God is able.
My four-year old thunders through the house in cowboy boots, and I hear it echo down the hall.
God is able.
He is able.
Please heal, Emmanuel.