Take me with you

When I was in second grade, my parents sent me to live with my uncle's family in the city for a few months. My parents were ministering to the churches in the rural parts of Malaysia, but they wanted their daughter to receive a good education. This was the best temporary arrangement at the time. I suppose it was a bit like boarding school.

I am sure that they tried to explain their good intentions to me. But I was seven. The purposes of their ways were beyond my comprehension. The nights were particularly frightening and lonely. How I grieved that I had to pray by myself. I am sure it did not help that I peeked at the video my older cousins were watching during the day -- Michael Jackson's Thriller.

zombies + seven-year-old alone in a dark room = a bad idea

My parents visited as often as they could, driving through those mountainous roads. I know now how difficult it must have been for them. My mom was pregnant with my youngest sister at the time. I remember holding her and hanging onto her green maternity dress. Take me with you. Please bring me home. Let me stay with you.

Tonight marks the last night of our homeless, drifting living. I am done and undone.

We are filled to the brim with the kindness and generosity of our friends and family who took us into their lives. They swallowed us whole, loved us, and made us their own. Though I can see dimly how I have been changed, the purposes of my Father's ways are beyond my comprehension.

Pilgrim through this barren land,
I am weak but thou art mighty,
hold me with thy powerful hand. 

Guide me, O thou great Jehovah.

Take me with you.

Please bring me home.
Let me stay with you.

And tomorrow, we shall.
We shall be home.