On the Roof with Emmanuel

It was the end of the day, I was emotionally spent. I had just returned to the orphanage from a medical clinic we set up in an amputee village. I cried all the way from that village to the orphanage. I felt as if all day long the Lord had been showing me to pour out my ENTIRE life as a drink offering to Him. I mean all of it until there was none of me left…absolutely none of me. I felt I was finally at that place. I had nothing of me left to offer. I had been faced with my own sin, my own failures, my own inadequacies, my own human weaknesses all day and I knew He was the only One who could truly satisfy me and sustain me. He was the only thing of any value I had to offer anyone and I wanted as much of Him to offer as I could because the needs were so great all around me. I didn’t know what to do with all of my emotions, I didn’t want to be alone and I yet I didn’t know what I would even say if I had a conversation with anyone. I took a shower and I could hear the children’s voices outside and it brought peace and a hint of joy. I knew no matter how hard it was that this is what life was really intended to be about…pouring yourself out for His sake and the sake of others.

I went to just sit with some of the kids. I ended up going up on the roof with Benjamin. I started crying…he started playing with my hair and encouraging me. I was a 33-year-old broken woman being encouraged by God through a 13-year-old orphan boy who had become my son. I explained the best I could what I was feeling and what God was showing me. I quit crying, Emmanuel came up on the roof with us and Benjamin left. I literally had nothing left. I tried to push my issues aside and decided to just sit with this boy who was as much my son as my sons at home. We lay on the roof together and looked up at the moon and stars. It was breath taking. I started telling him that when I was at home I would run at night and listen to worship on my ipod. I would pray for the kids and my heart would ache from missing them. I told Him the Lord would bring comfort by reminding me that we were all under the same sky. We were looking at the same moon and stars. We were all one family underneath the same heavens that He created and sustained. All those nights of running, worshipping, praying, looking up at the stars begging God for things in their behalf, and now here I was on the top of a tin roof back in Sierra Leone with one of my African sons and we were looking up at the sky and marveling at God’s goodness together. It was a holy moment.

I then told Emmanuel that Jesus was all He needed. That even when I went back to America and he had times of sadness or discouragement that He had the Lord. I told Him how Jesus’ love would never leave or forsake Him…that His love would never fail. That even if the mountains fell into the sea and everything around him faded away He would have God’s love and that is all He really needed. It was God’s love that had rescued Him and carried Him to the place He was now. It was God’s love that lead me to come from America to lie on that roof with him looking at the stars and be a source of encouragement to him. It was God’s love through me that was bringing Him comfort at that moment…and even if I weren’t there God’s love would be. As I was sharing these things with Him I knew the Lord was speaking the same things to me. I always have access to His love. In America or in Africa. In my times of brokenness or joy. His love never fails me either. Silence quickly settled in. I felt the urge to fill in the silence with words. I felt the Lord whisper for me to be quiet and still and know that He is God. I felt Him asking me to let Him comfort me through this precious one.

The bell rang that summoned all the children in to the main room beneath the roof we were laying on for their nightly worship and devotion. Emmanuel and I did not move or say a word. We laid there while all 80 of those rescued ones worshipped the Lord with their voices lifted high and their hearts bowed low. We lay there holding hands, being still before the Lord, knowing, I mean REALLY knowing that He is God!

When the devotions were over some of the children were going to bed. Emmanuel had fallen asleep. I woke him up so he could go to bed. We got off the roof, I kissed him goodnight and I went to the bathroom. I was content and ready to crawl into bed. On my way to tell some of the other children good night I saw him sitting there alone and sad. I knew he didn’t want the moment to end. I felt the Lord whispering the question to me; will you pour out everything trusting me to flow through you in that moment? My answer was yes. This was an opportunity that I could not let pass. I asked Emmanuel why he was so sad…. he wouldn’t answer. I asked him if he wanted to look at the stars together again, he shook his head yes. I told him to go get us a pillow and I would get my bible, ipod and some snacks for us and we would meet back at the place we were sitting. When we met back, we ate some crackers and peanut butter, read some scriptures and talked for a few minutes. We then found a quiet place on the concrete. We lay on the pillow and shared my ipod. We held hands and looked up at the stars as we listened to worship music together. As I drifted in and out of sleep I would feel him breathing deeply and I knew He was peacefully sleeping. I knew the Lord was comforting us through each other. Solomon, my oldest African son, came over at one point and looked down at us and smiled. I finally got up quietly so I didn’t wake him. I just looked down at him sleeping so peacefully. I felt a deep love for him just as I do my sons at home. I thanked God for the gift He had given me that night. It was an indescribable experience. The only thing that could have made it better is if Jerome would have been there to scoop him up and carry him to his bed like he does with our Micah. I would have done it myself if I was strong enough. I quietly woke him so he could go to his bed. He gave me a big hug and staggered off. I cannot tell you how many times I recount this memory. It is forever sewn onto the lining of my heart.