Nothing Worth Sharing.

And I want someone to believe in you.
Sometimes even I have given up.
You were created to do great things.
Your potential – you are unaware.
I see the beauty in your half-smile.
And the strength in your grip echoes 23 years.
I know the stern voice is a façade to pain.
The cement slabs seem to catch your fall.
But the arms of grace are far more comfortable.
Stability is what I will be.
A shade of love we have yet to know.
But, I am not giving up.
I want someone to believe in you.

There is nothing worth sharing.
Like the love that let us share our name.

Silhouettes.

I learned about you during my high school years and often tried to find you.  Every attempt was a wall and every hope was a let down.  I have seen you in my dreams.  You have consistently invaded my thoughts.  I desired a relationship with you but I wasn’t sure if you would feel the same way.  Where have you been and who did you become?  Do you have his eyes?  Ears?  Temper? Height?  Was it better this way?

Before my Dad’s relationship with my Mother, he was married and had three children.  There is more to the story than I know but he ultimately left and never turned back.  I often wondered how someone could leave their children?  When Dad would up and leave during my high school years I would assume he wasn’t going to come back, only because history tends to repeat itself.  He wasn’t what I would call stability or a hero of any kind, but he was my Father.  He is my Dad.  Our relationship now is better than it has ever been and I would not trade that for anything.

My Mom spent endless hours trying to help me locate my three brothers.  But with no real solid information of their location, it was close to impossible. I longed to know them and be a part of their lives and I wondered if they would want anything to do with me.  Though I am not responsible for the actions of my Father, it is still such a delicate and vulnerable situation.

Last night the wife of one of my brothers contacted me via Facebook (you have to love social networks!).  There is so much more to the story but ultimately my Grandfather told them about my Dad having three other children.  He told the boys our names and mentioned I was in South Carolina.  I was at work when a message was sent to my phone from Facebook that asked if I had a sister named Jessica and a twin brother Eric.  I just responded that I did and went on with work.  It wasn’t until midnight last night that I actually got to talk to Elizabeth, the wife of Cory (the middle son), and learn more about my brothers and the lives I’ve missed out on.

This is all new and developing and I have yet to talk to any of the guys yet, but I am really hoping to have some sort of relationship with them.  I have wanted this for so long.  This writing doesn’t do the entire story nearly any justice.  There is so much more to be said and so much that has yet to happen.  But I am thrilled about the opportunity to get to know the big brothers I never had.

For some time they were just silhouettes in my mind and now I can put a picture to the shadows.  They do look like him.

Binding.

My heart is consistently brewing at a rapid pace for the people of Uganda.  I dream about their faces and tell their stories of heartache and praise.  I stare at my feet and dream about the dirt laden roads they’ve walked down.   I am so unlikely and He deems me worthy.

I am thankful to share with friends and family that I will be returning home to Uganda in June.  This is the first post of many in regards to this unpredictable journey.  I covet your prayers for the group of us that will be traveling there and desire your prayers for the people of Uganda.  He isn’t done with them yet.  He isn’t done with us yet.  He isn’t done with me yet.

He holds everything together.

He is a beautiful button.