a love to beheld

this. is. humbling.  and we were welcomed with so much love indeed! oh, Lord, bless this home, those in it! let Your Presence dwell here!

we went on home visits to deliver gifts of new clothes, medicine, crafts, etc.  a picture of one of the boys of a family who received his gift bag.  

i think about standing before Him.  and it brings me joy.  it also brings me sadness and burden.  there is an account i shall give, for how i loved, how i served His Kingdom.  what did i do to the least of these? what did i do for them?  how did i love them?  did i count their lives more important than my own?  how did i value my own life, and what did i define my “life” as?  it is not measurable by our standards, my standards, but He looks upon us and sees through it all, to our heart.  the apostle paul wrote “...if i give my body over to be burned, but have not loved, it profits me nothing.”  i can say this: i never knew love, until i came to africa, i thought i did, but, what i deemed to be love was nothing more than my thoughts and transcendental spillings. for the past 30ish years, i have looked to improve, grow, change by looking at myself, examining myself, but have come to understand, all that looking at self only diverts the eyes from the Model they should gaze upon.  our desire is to be Christ like in our service, love, and outreach, yet, we spend so much time focusing on ourself and how we can become that, that we neglect to gaze upon Him, look to Him who is the perfect example, and then let ourselves become that which we gaze upon. i am convinced we are surrounded by His glory, yet, we fail to see it, because we have fallen into the trap that we need to continue to search ourselves to grow, be refined, increase.  when our eyes are focused inward, they cannot be focused anywhere else, and therefore we rob ourselves of beholding His Glory daily!  when we focus solely on Him, neglecting that self-introspection we have been fooled into believing we need, He then truly becomes our guide, our heart feels and experiences Him, and it radically changes-us! no one ever trains them self in any sporting even, music skill, etc by watching people do it wrong, they focus on those that have perfected the craft, the art, the game, and learn from that.  our lives are no different. gaze upon Him, look to Him!  He is so precious to behold, to look to, to be with, His presence is so very captivating, that surely once we behold it, we shall never desire to look away, at anyone else, including ourself. that is love, true love; a love that shapes and come into us, because we gaze only upon Him.  what an incredible love!

i walk down the dirt roads daily, from my house to the main church center where my 15 await me, along the way, i am greeted by many, children, adults, young, old, healthy, ill, lonely, laughing, hungry, and those that are full and i delight in their simple greetings.  there is such a joy in the little hands that slip into mine, in their calls of “auntie carmen!” and giggles.  and i think about the Father’s love, and my coming to Him. if we are to come to Him as children, what does our joy look like in that?  those children that do not know my name simply call out “auntie mezungu!” and i delight in that even.  there is no religious trap we shall catch ourselves in when praying or coming to the Lord, no thinking “what name of the Lord do i use? Jehova M’Kadesh? Jireh? Rapha? etc”  no! no! no! we just call Him “Father!” “God!” “Lord!” He delights in it, because it is our voices that call it!  when all they want to do is hold my hand, that’s all i want to do, is hold theirs.  i know where most of them turn down to head to their homes, and we will slow the pace of our walk, simply so that we can delight in the presence of each other’s hands a little longer. the joy in just being in that presence.  and His presence is so much sweeter. 

i have only a few more weeks left until i return.  i came to love, to serve, and yet, i am returning with a love i had not known before.  upon realizing how limited i am in what i can do, and thus only being able to gaze upon Him and say, “Father, help!” that gazing has captured me, and my eyes have scarcely looked away since.  those moments when they do, and i find them diverted, i hastily direct them back to their rightful place--Him.  

i will be celebrating my birthday here with my 15 children, and would love for you to partner with me in blessing them for my birthday. i need only 8 more people who are willing to donate $10 a piece, and we will travel into town (a first for most), eat at a restaurant (a first for all (eating meat too, which is typically only a 3 times a year event)), and play at a play place.  i desire for you to partner with me in this blessing for them, there is something so incredible sweet upon giving so that others may be blessed. you can donate through the paypal button on the right side of the screen. :)

side note: :)

--our english lesson today was playing i spy. i thought i’d see how well their receptive/verbally english skills were by doing this. oh, it was a blast. they giggled and ran and jumped with delight when they “spied” what i did. they squealed with glee when what i “spied” was something they were wearing, and then each would beg me to spy something they were wearing for the others to guess. there is an indescribable joy in their hearts.  through all the pain, hunger, worries, and trials, joy presses through--He pushes and pulls them when they are weak, and it fills them with joy. they are wonderful and dearly loved. 

“o God, be Thou exalted over my possessions. nothing of earth’s treasures shall seem dear unto me if only Thou art glorified in my life. be Thou exalted over my friendships. i am determined that Thous shalt be above all, though i must stand deserted and alone in the midst of the earth. be Thou exalted above my comforts.  though it mean the loss of bodily comforts and the carrying of heavy crosses, i shall keep my vow made this day before Thee. be Thou exalted over my reputation. make me ambitious to please Thee even if as a result i must sink into obscurity and my name be forgotten as a dream.  rise, o Lord into Thy proper place of honor, above my ambitions, above my likes and dislikes, above my family, my heath, even my life itself.  let me decrease that Thou mayest increase, let me sink that Thou mayest rise above.  ride forth upon me as Thou didst ride into jerusalem mounted upon the humble little beast, a colt, the foal of an ass, and let me hear the children cry to Thee, “Hosanna in the highest!”--a.w. tozer from the pursuit of God. 

the wise and strong shall be shamed, and in that, we will rejoice!

i scan the tiny books brought, searching for the most appropriate ones: the ones they can read, with smaller words, the ones that are relevant to what they can understand, considering their lifestyles.  in the midst of this search, i pick up a tiny book, whimsically illustrated, and after only a few moments, i hurridly shove it to the side, “i definitely cannot take this one”.  the book: “christmas”.  is filled with illustrated pages of children, delightfully going through the motions most of us know as christmas traditions.  the words tell the stories of the happy pictures: children decorating the christmas tree with mommy and daddy.   mommy and daddy wrapping presents.  children baking cookies with mommy and daddy and their smiles fill the pages as they eat the cookies shaped like santa claus, christmas trees, boxed presents, wreaths and bows, etc. the last few pages show pictures of the happy family gathered together by the fireplace with stockings hung, goodies from santa claus peaking out, and them ripping through the gifts under the tree.  how can i possibly bring this book to read to them, to have them read, and then, (with my translator) explain that this, this is christmas in america.  mommies in reindeer sweaters, daddies wearing red and green plaid button ups, with heinous ties (picked out by the children as a gift of course!), girls with tightly curled hair with pretty bows, the boys with mischievous grins on their face, in their neatly fitted red sweaters over tiny green button-ups. presents, so many, most children can’t even recall everything they received. mounds and mounds of trash from empty toy boxes, wrapping paper.  and the food, oh, the food.  a glutton’s paradise.  tables and counters filled with dishes of food, and more food that is kept else where because there is simply not room for it.  joyous singing, caroling, gathering together by the t.v. to watch “it’s wonderful life” for the umpteenth time. i think about where i will be this christmas, compared to where i am now.  these are not just faces any longer to me, they are stories, lives, hearts, souls.  i will be in the states for this christmas, and i think about the 8-hour time difference, and how when i settle to watch “it’s a wonderful life” by the fireplace, is just about when they will be waking up. i think about them waking up, and then i think about that morning when the young children i know will be waking up, and the difference.  i think about mostly empty bellies, except for that day, a special day, when they get meat for their meal.  i think about how commonplace it is for a meal to consist of meat where i used to live, and how spectacular it is when they receive it in a meal here. i think about their smiles.  smiles that emerge at the most unlikely of times.  eyes that shine brighter than the stars, just because.  i think about a Jesus that weeps. for them.  i look at tiny hands and i imagine them slipping into His.  i think about his birth, in a manager, with animals-dirty animals, i think about how He had no “home”.  i think about His life, and i think about theirs.  there’s a remarkable resemblance.  john said of Jesus “i am unworthy to even untie the thong of His sandal”.  and i think about my own unworthiness, to be an heir, to have my heart called His home, to be a temple of His presence, even at the typing of that, surely it should be blasphemy--me, a temple for His dwelling.  that’d be somewhat an equal of a pay-by-the-hour flea bag hotel proclaiming itself to be the rest place of choice for the royal family.  surely i should go back and strike that sentence, delete it out--but i will leave it. because chances are, you are the same.  you are a temple for His dwelling, and i want you to feel the magnitude of grace that that statement means, the implications of it all. surely i am so unworthy to serve and love those whose treasures He is storing up more greatly in heaven than even the treasures the most wealthy person on earth has now.  i think about all this, from a christmas book.  that shows everything of christmas in america tradition, and nothing of the meaning of Christmas.  i think of the closeness, the resting of the Holy Spirit that must be upon them, that must hover over this place, on a day that marks the birth of our Savior, in a stable, in a manager, no home, no feast--because their Christmas day here looks much more like that than ours does. 

i continually think about our charge: james 1:27 “....to visit widows and orphans in their distress”

and i think about:

1 john 3:17: “but whoever has the world’s good and beholds his brother in need and closes his heat against him, how does the love of God abide in him?  little children, let us not love with word or with tongue, but in deed and truth”

when you feel you have nothing to give: give a smile--it may be God’s way of telling that person everything’s going to be okay.  only have a dollar? give it to the salvation army bucket, and then read mark 12:41-44. 

never question how God can use you, or how such a simple task can be God-moved.  His ways are higher than our own and he uses the foolish things to shame the wise and the weak to shame the strong (1 corinithians 1:27)

despite poverty, war, illness, no (biological) parents to call your own, joy reigns.  evident in the delight of playing with their "brothers and sisters" by jumping on mattresses.  joy, pure joy. 

the joy in new shoes.  feet that one day will walk on streets of gold. :)

imperfect messengers and a perfect message. He is mighty.

how could it be, that such Holy Words would be permitted to pass through such tarnished lips?  His perfect Word, His perfect Message, spoken by a very imperfect messenger.

i will be speaking His Word, delivering a Spirit inspired message to the people that attend the return ministry service on sunday. i see them, and they are anxious to hear.  the children already ask me such incredible questions. some of the adults believe i have answers.  i do not.  all i know is that His ways are higher than my ways.  all i know is that i am imperfect, He is perfect, and is doing a great work in all of us.

i do not know why they are hungry for food now, and a month ago, i was not, as i was living comfortably in the states.  i do not know why their children die needlessly, and the children i knew in america did not. i do know though, that one day, the clouds will be rolled back, a great clap of thunder will sound, He will descend, "Lord of lords, King of kings" written down His thigh, sword coming from His mouth, angels sounding trumpets, Him dressed in white: ready to do battle, ready to defeat death, finality sin, and call us back with Him.  we will all depart, be perfected, and gaze at His presence. we will all stand/kneel/fall in His presence, we will shout, "Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord God Almighty" or simply "Holy, Holy, Holy" because no other words could possibly suffice. our once stained feet will stand on His Holy Ground.  our stained eyes, that have witnessed atrocities, that have witnessed needless death, that have witnessed suffering, that have witnessed sin will gaze upon His Glory.

when they ask me: "where is God? amidst this suffering"  i can only respond, He left the cross to prepare a place for you. for me.  there is a matchless Glory that we have yet to see.  even the most comfortable life is but filthy rags in comparison to what He is preparing. i do not have the answers.  the only answer is His ways are higher than our ways.  the only answer is: Jesus.  the only answer is: wait for His glory.

His Glory.  how can we even utter that?  how can i even type that?  i think of this in my mind, but i know what i can think is feeble compared to the matchless mightiness of this. i say that word "Glory" but i cannot fathom what it actually is.  i can say "Holy" but i cannot fathom what that actually is.  i only know that His Holiness is so powerful not even the seraphims could leave their feet uncovered or eyes open to be in It's presence.

i will bring a message on sunday.  i will tell them that we have physical hunger so that we may  now what it is to hunger for God, that we have thirst so that we may know what it is for our souls to thirst for His Word.  i will talk about david and jeremiah.  i will beg them to take their physical hunger and understand that hunger also exist for God.  i will beg them to understand that they desperation they feel when their child is sick, the desperation to see them healed-that same desperation should be there for their souls to be redeemed, to be written, to be known by the Father that will not leave them.  i will tell them of a Bridegroom that will never leave them, and the lonliness they feel, that is their soul weeping for Him.

there is a great injustice we see: hunger, thirst, starvation, death, desperation; but, God did not do that, satan did.  we did it.  sin did it.  we cling to what is Good, abhor what is evil.  there is a day coming, a day of reckoning.  the day the skies open, and He descends.  no more hunger, death, fear, loneliness, desperation.

what does love look like?  it looks like this:
an embrace.  a promise that one day, he will be in a land flowing with milk and honey.  and she, she will meet her Bridegroom, who loves her so much, He left his Kingly throne, died, naked and beaten on a wooden cross, only to rise and prepare a mansion for her.

what does hope look like?  like a pair of silly glasses made from fuzzy pipe cleaners, and a group of people who flew half way across the world to say, "you are beautiful, and loved".  it is a smile amidst hunger, disease, and having to grow up way too soon.









pray. encourage. send. love. there are hands to be held, tears to be wiped, babies to hold and feed.  heads to have hands placed on them and Truth spoken/prayed over them.
what good does visiting do?  it tells them of a value they have.  how Christ would leave His throne for them.  how we would leave our comfort for them. it teaches us to: that same message.
it is speaking Life into a dark place.  even a small flicker of light drives out darkness.  but a tiny flame, in a dark room, brings much light.  be that flame. be that light.

--i am still raising money for return ministries to purchase a land on that they can change their community with. build a house for the children.  build a church center.  empower and equip.  there is a vision, please be a part of it.  the land cost $150,000 and the buildings will be about the same, but right now, we just need to secure that land!  be a part in providing a hope, a future, a reclamation, an ability to become self-sustaining.

a story: david is 16.  he is one of the children that are part of return ministries. we recently talked about the story of the prodigal son with the older ones, with honesty in the telling of the harlots/prostitutes.
fast forward a few days later (yesterday) and all the younger children and older children are watching "veggie tales: the wizard of has" (a child friendly telling of the prodigal son--it's veggie tales after all!).  when the son character left home an arrived in has, he was greeted by little green peas (munchkin men--get it, take from wizard of oz! :) )....anyway, at this point, david looked at me with all seriousness, and asked, "are those the prostitutes".  i looked at him again for a second, and i said, "hm?" to make sure i understood him, he restated "are those the prostitutes?  the story?" i laughed and explained to him there would be no prostitutes in this cartoon....it's made for young children, so they change it a little bit....he laughed.  :)

love. give. change! empower!

love. sacrifice. change.

God's sovereignty.  His plans.  His call.  our blessing. our responsibility.

i was talking with 16 year old david today about what america is like, jobs, homes, food, etc, and was explaining to him that for all america and the people there are blessed with, comes much responsibility--to God. the account of our deeds, where our money went: starbucks or feeding the hungry.  a big screen t.v. or a chance at a quality education for an orphaned child, a flashy car, or shoes for the ones with scarred feet. i am blessed beyond measure to myself know very giving people.  to have people in my life that see the needs of others and reach out to meet those needs.

visiting orphans is an incredible organization.  they live out james 1:27, and through short term mission trips, a passion is ignited in the hearts of many people who return to serve ministries that captured their hearts: that's how i came to serve at return ministries here in kampala, uganda.

on september 13th, a church team from california is coming to paint and help beautify the home these children are staying in.  i remember less than a month ago, my comfortable life in the states, not thinking twice about pretty walls and the nice floors of my home, and reflect on my surroundings then compared to where these children live now.  one day, they will have a mansion on streets of gold.  one day they will be clothed with fine linen of purple, but until then, there are those that are stepping in to make where they are now a little prettier. i am posting some "in progress" pictures, as the walls are being primed prior to this teams arrival who will paint and buy new sheets and bed blankets.  i am so filled with joy to think of the new rooms being revealed to my favorites, all 15. :)

if you click on the link to return ministries' site, you'll notice that pastor samuel has an incredible plan for a self-sustaining ministry that will also serve the community.  a large part of this plan is buying land to build and serve on (they are renting now, and need MUCH more space).  i've borrowed my dear friend autumn kerr's fundraising idea (you can read her story here):
if you donate at least $10 (paypal donate button is on the right side of my blog screen and a bit down), then after the rooms are painted, an artist who works with return is going to paint a tree in the girl's and boy's rooms and you will have your very own leaf on those trees--we can put your name and a bible verse too if you'd like, or a word of life: beauty, redeemed, loved, heirs, etc :)
this money will go to help purchase the land so they can began to become self-sustaining with farming, an adequate sized building to serve the community, and later, the building of a guest house to accommodate visiting teams and other groups.

please consider giving up two starbucks, one chic-fil-a visit, etc and help change these children's lives and also the future of kampala as a whole.

now: ("after" pictures to come in a few weeks! :) )

the girls' room

the boys' room

main living area/food serving area

food storage area:

change lives. sacrifice.  love.

a glimpse into the lives you are changing: 

and a bit more of what you are changing:

to quote c.s. lewis:

if you read history, you will find that the christians who did the most for the present world were precisely those who thought most of the next.  it is since christians have largely ceased to think of the other world that they have become so ineffective in this.

***don't let the dirt fool you, this is Holy ground.

lift up your eyes!

there is a joy that lives through hunger. poverty. death. abandonment.  He is among the poor.  He is among those far away.  He is close to the heavy laden. a child that He welcomes--no, CALLS to His lap.  a tear that He wipes away, and eyes that He appears before.  His majesty dances around them.  His holiness dwells among them.  His splendor clothes them.  the work now.  they will find rest in Him.

through corruption of a government that tells them they will never find relief.  oppression that denies them help. He calls us forth.  He calls you forth.  they grow bigger as these frames grow smaller. one day, this will be made right.  one day, He will set everything in order, heal, restore, hand out measures.

there are many stories.  many broken hearts. healed hearts. healing hearts. eyes that have shed many tears.  eyes that have seen many tragedies.  eyes that have also beheld the Glory of God. hands that have reached with no response in the middle of the night.  hands that are now held my mine. by yours. they are just children.  they are all His children.

they color:

they make two trips a day to fetch water to boil to drink or cook with

what was your 6 year old doing this morning?  today at lunch? 

 they are family. sisters. brothers. not orphans. they are a family.  there is love. here is love.

there is a place for them.  in hearts.  in His Kingdom.  here. 

10 girls that share a room.  5 boys that share a room. bunk beds squeezed in for all heads to have a place to rest. lights go dim. they giggle.  they laugh.  they are family.  

i have seen the Glory of God as well.  and It rest here.  i have felt the breeze of His Holy Spirit, when i walked with them.  i have seen His eyes, when i looked into theirs. 

 Shake off your dust;
   rise up, sit enthroned, Jerusalem.
Free yourself from the chains on your neck,
   Daughter Zion, now a captive.
 For this is what the LORD says:
   “You were sold for nothing,
   and without money you will be redeemed.”
--isaiah 52:2-3

This is why it is said:
   “Wake up, sleeper,
   rise from the dead,
   and Christ will shine on you.”

--ephesians 5:14

He shines in this place. on them. 

His ways are higher than my own: isaiah 55

just as the heavens are higher than the earth, My ways are higher than your ways:

we visited an orphanage in ethiopia on our next to last day, which is not unusual from any other of our days here, except for the fact that this orphanage, this day, was the cataylst for a righteous anger that rose up in me.  an orphanage run by nuns, all of whom have well meaning intentions and giving hearts--i do not doubt this; but it is a matter of practicality: resources/money.  the stench of urine, feces, and vomit (children are always sick) was overpowering in some rooms.  one child sitting on a children’s potty in the midst of a 12 ft x 12 ft room filled with no less than 15 cribs, for 10 minutes, while all strength available in his weak body was used to hold himself up. the sister in the room pointed to him and said, “sick. sick”.  this precious 1 year old son of our God had a gaping wound below his mouth, masking his chin as being nothing more than a mess of exposed tissue festering with infection and disease.  i thought of the states, and my friends, my family, people i don’t even know: that would never happen there, go untreated, left for the helpless babe to suffer in pain every minute, of every hour of every day. his eyes glassed over from dehydration from sickness. loneliness screamed at me from them, and i embraced him in my hands.  i was given a cup of pedialyte-like drink to give him, and i held it with one hand as i embraced his head in my other hand. holding him close to me, the odor of vomit soaked into his clothing, his skin.  i shed tears, and could do nothing more than sing “Jesus loves you” over him. 

i walked down to another room, slightly larger, but with many more cribs.  no less than 35 cribs packed into a room that was perhaps 15 ft x 15 ft.  this room was for the infants, newborns, and children with special needs and bedridden.  the first greeting i received when entering this room was from my friend, amanda, who was sitting next to a pretty girl that i would assume was 3 or 4 years old.  i greeted her, and will refer to her as “e” for this. she had one of the worst cases of hydrocephalus i’ve seen: in person, on t.v. in photographs.  her head was filled with fluid, skull expanded to the size of beach ball. making the presentation of this condition all the more painful to observe was that her body was grossly undeveloped, with her body alone weighing most likely no more than 15 pounds,  i would guess that her head weighed twice this. my original thought of seeing her and believing she was 3/4 years old was shattered when my friend amanda told me she was 18.  the tears that had already gathered in my eyes and began streaming down my cheeks soon pooled into a steady flow as my heart raced, and mind grasped for an understanding.  a combination of the last two weeks of visiting orphanages with anywhere from 80-600 children, the constant site of children with no shoes, open sores, malnourished bellies, iron deficiencies evident by looking into their eyes and seeing solid yellow where we would see whites of ours, babies sleeping two to a crib, children sleeping 2 to a twin bed, some on the floor, wearing clothes so tattered and worn that we (americans) would choose a trash can for them as opposed to donating to a thrifts store, all led to my pleading heart begging for answers, my mind lacking understanding. knowing that His thoughts are not my thoughts, and neither His ways are my ways, just as the heavens are higher than the earth, so His ways higher than mine (isaiah 55) i still wanted to understand, comprehend why there is still orphans, these conditions that they must live in. “christianity is the most populous religion in the world”, i muffled screamed, continuing on “so why is this still happening?!  why are they still here?!”.  i sat next to “e”, not knowing what to say, what to do, but lay my hand on her, stroke her arm, and quote jeremiah 29 over her. i prayed this over her.  i spoke the truth of solomon’s words over her, “you are all together beautiful my darling, there is no spot in thee”.  i spoke truth over her, that she has a Heavenly Father, an Abba Father, that loves her, that is preparing a place for her.  i told her that one day, when Jesus embraces her in His arms, He will give her a perfect body, that will live in a mansion on streets of gold.  that she is being called to a land of milk and honey.  the pressure from the fluid around her brain had caused her to become blind, and i saw her eyes darting around, moving rapidly as i spoke to her, as i prayed truth over her.  i prayed that the Holy Spirit would take the words He spoke through me, and translate them to what she could understand as they reached her precious ears. 

after i left “e”’s side, i cradled babies in my arms, babies with bones protruding from their bodies, with sunken in cheeks and yellowed eyes.  these babies which lied in cribs lined up side by side, row by row, too many for my two arms to hold. they lied there, with  blankets that reeked of urine covering their tiny bodies, pillows beside their heads, with bottles propped on them.  too many babies, too few sisters to feed them, too few of us too. to be fed a bottle and not held.  too small to even hold the bottle with their own hands, yet, not even anyone to hold them.  we tried desperately to hold every precious baby, to kiss each cheek, to rub each head, to stroke each arm.  all i could do is pray and speak scripture over them.  my words are so inadequate.  His are so powerful.  i spoke truth over them of redemption, of how they will one day be sitting at the feet of Jesus, and i will be in the back, i told them of how the last will be first and first will be last, how the poor will be rich, and sick made well. 

Lord, these are Your arms, Your hands, Your words, i drink them like milk and honey-they are so sweet to me and i will speak them over Your orphans.  these are Your orphans, Your children, Your heirs.  Your ways are higher than mine, and i do not understand, but my faith in You tells me that You have them perfectly in Your hands and You have a place for them at Your feet. 

i walked through a garden today and i thought of You

i walked through a garden today and i thought of You.

we arrived at Noel orphanage and were greeted by hundreds of children from 4/5 years old to teenagers before we all could get off the bus. hands were grabbed, cheeks kissed, and arms wrapped around necks.  we walked a hundred feet and were greeted by walking toddlers spilling out of rooms. they were quickly swept up and held in our arms and snuggled to our chests, heads buried in our necks and their heads and cheeks rubbed by our embracing hands. 

too soon after this, we were pulled away to take a tour, leaving the snuggles, embraces, hands and arms behind. 

on the tour, i walked through a garden, and thought of You. my heart breaking for them.  their hunger, their sickness, their "orphan" status. air escaped me and my heart sank. hearing nothing, but Your presence swirling around us. 

how much more Lord must Your heart break for us!  

Your prayed for me until blood as sweat dripped from your brow.  You prayed if it were Lord's will, this cup shall pass from You, but You drank from it and my sins like blood soon poured down Your broken body. 

today, i hugged orphans of the world, i kissed dirty cheeks, and had slobbery ones on mine, i held many tiny hands, hugged many necks, carried babies, and cried as we all sang "Hosanna" together. and i thought of You.