"Open, shut them... open, shut them... give a little clap.
Open, shut them... open, shut them... fold them in your lap."
I unpack in this house, this mansion, really. A place shared by love and generosity. I slide, sock-feet, on the hardwood floors singing praises to God because He loves us. Oh, how He loves all of His world. Open my hands to receive the gift.
The suitcase, covered in Puerto Lempira red dirt, lays still-full on the closet floor, reminding me of where my heart lives. I feel dirty still and somehow unworthy of the gift of this beautiful, clean place of rest. Why do I allow my shame, my lack to close my fists and rob me of the gift?
There is a grief, a loss this year. It is large and, at times, feels suffocating. How to let go of something that was a part of us all for so long? There is a release that is required, an opening of the closed fist on things that we thought were 'ours', so that God can show us the tomorrow that He has waiting. I open my fist again, offer the thing that I loved, maybe loved too much, and wait.
I cannot find these coconut earrings that Noe made to donate to the auction. How does someone lose a ziplock full of coconut earrings between Honduras, McKinney and Plano? Can I rest with this and trust that these earrings are not my demise? They do not define me, nor do they represent my larger failings. The fist feels like it wants to close again, protect the raw places. My mistakes, my losses, my inabilities do not preclude the miracle of God's presence. They just don't and He pries my fingers loose again.
A gathering approaches on Saturday night. It is this that matters - the sharing of touch, gratitude, love and fellowship for those who serve alongside us in this calling of Reach Out Honduras. I will rejoice, celebrate and live thankful for this time. Both hands will remain open to give, to speak and love... and at the same time, to accept this gift, given by God, orchestrated by dear people and just watch His miracle unfold.