If tomorrow never comes

I don't even like country music, but I can't get this song out of my head. I don't know the story of the song, (I don’t even like country music, and frankly find it to be an oxymoron) but the song seems to fit the mood, or at least, it will tomorrow.

I tried to warn the team. I told them of the pain involved – the challenges that they would face, but they did not listen and came to Russia anyway. Praise God. I told them that it would happen to most of them, if not all of them – that it would hurt. That it would change them. I’m talking about love. I’m talking about loving today and lamenting tomorrow.

Now, no one misses their family more than I. Maybe to the same degree, but that’s it. I miss my wife and son. But, if teleportation were possible, I’d use it tomorrow. I'd hit the button and be in my wife's arms by lunch time! It’s the last day at the camps. But, it does not exist and I'm here till God's done with us.

You see, tomorrow's the last day with the kids. It’s also the last day we’ll have a part of our hearts. It’s been an exhausting week of giving and taking. Up at 6:30, down after midnight. On your feet all day, on your back as soon as you hit your room - that is, after a brief walk and a potato (make that sauerkraut) filled pastry.

But if I could avoid tomorrow, I would. If I could wish it away, I would. Oh, I’d take all the days I could get at the orphanage, but saying goodbye to the kids does not hurt as much as it removes. Everyone, and I mean everyone has fallen in love with these children. Young and old, cute and slobbery – we have traded a portion of our hearts in order to love and be loved.

The older kids have opened their hearts to us, and us them. We have been captured by their actions and smiles, and their words. We don’t share much in common, but we do share some kind of humanity and the handprint that God leaves on every creation. They are creations of a divine, clever, and gracious God. They are the children of a people whom we used to call our enemy. They are beautiful.

And the younger children have left us breathless. Every lick, (yes, they lick, and yes you'd love it to) every hug, every leap, every everything makes you smile and love. These are kids with every disorder imaginable: down syndrome, fetal alcohol syndrome, CP, and so much more and all the attending problems that come with these challenges. But, they all have smiles. Great big ones and they squeal and clap when they see the puppets, and they chase you around wanting to be held, and you laugh when they jump on you and they laugh when you tell them not to dig through your pockets, and they smile when you leave and you cry when you walk away and you love it. They re amazing. They are God's chosen vessels to communicate grace and you are His chosen vessels to communicate love and when these two heavenly aspects meet, then the wind blows and the sun shines because the earth seems to somehow react to God's smile.

But, please pray for us tomorrow. From 1:30am Texas time until 9am Texas time, we will be with the kids in heart and soul. We will teach, play, and talk with them. We will love them and they will love us. We will embrace them and they us. It will be a hard day of goodbyes - of wondering what will happen to them. It will be a day of celebrating the fact that no one is an orphan who chooses to follow Christ and we will spend considerable time communicating this in all that we do.

Tomorrow is the last day of scattering seed, but the first day of a brand new harvest. Pray that the kids will see Christ for who He is, and will recognize the love that is there in Jesus and will turn their face towards Him. Pray that we'll be able to work through the tears and the joy. Just pray.

The week has been remarkable. The compliments from the stateside Buckner personnel and the workers at the camps have been gracious and encouraging. The director of the older camp recognized that the kids bonded with us very quickly and that they are usually not those kinds of kids, but you know what? He is that kind of God.