Hope.

"Hope cannot be taught,
but it can be borrowed from hopeful people."

They told us that on the HNGR retreat. It made me cry.
(Story of my life, at the moment... no... I mean, really.)


I'm having a hard time dealing with remembering those stories
without being in the context of Mosoj Yan, and its beautiful work.
I told people all the time when I was there
that I thought my faith was staying strong
because of how I saw those workers living out theirs.
But...
I don't know that I realized just how much it was so.

I borrowed a lot of hope from them.

And they, working day in and day out with those girls,
giving their lives with such joy to
loving-teaching-working-laughing-praying-disciplining-cooking-helping-holding
had the right to claim it.
If they saw hope,
it must be so.
Oh, how grateful I am for their faithfulness...
now: for the girls' sake and for mine.

I remember their faith and rely on it.
And I try to draw strength from the memory of their hope...
but, well.
It's harder to borrow from across an ocean.

To be honest.

I'm back to not knowing how to blog.
But back to wanting to try.
More to come...