Making strangers brothers

He was born in an African village some 60 miles from the nearest town.

His floors were dirt and the sun was for power.

His water, unclean.

Only the strong survived and he was amongst them.

His heart was a mess and his life hung in his mothers arms.

He was destined to live his life somewhere else.

To leave his only sister, to fight the fight of survival.

His life lived out across an ocean some thousands of miles away.

I was destined to be his mom. Our lives intertwined like the branches

of a grape vine.

His little life so fragile and so dependent on me who came

all the way across the world to retrieve him and bring him to a little plot of land

in the middle of the country. A country farm for him to run and play and grow

and be loved.

To live.

Not all the same skin but it matters little now as his branches

mingle with ours.

Just a vine praying to bear fruit.

Allowing the Lord to so tangle our hearts that

you can't tell us apart.

Learning to love one another as brothers and mothers,

sons and fathers.

Choosing love

Choosing to dig a well instead of filling one in.

Choosing to put myself and our family on the front lines

and finding ourselves overcome with love.

Celebrating the week the Lord brought Joseph Turner

to America.

Celebrating that He used us.