Fuzzy hair, tiny grins, red dirt, my heart is home.

Tasha- the little girl sitting in my lap. The little girl who was shy at first but the second I held my hands out she climbed up in my arms and held on tight. The little girl who’s heart connected with mine. The little girl my I wept about.

There in my tiny room in South Africa my heart bled out onto the floor. My heart sore from thinking I get to go home but this is her home, this is her reality. That I was just another person who would abandon her. Her soul withdrawn and quiet, longing for love. My soul wanting to give her every ounce of my being, to hold her in my lap forever and never let go. My eyes overflowing with tears. “I love her more than you can imagine. She is my child just like you. I will protect her.” That’s what He told me. That’s what He quieted my fixer heart with. That there’s nothing for me to fix, He already sent Jesus for that. That I’m called to love with what is inside me which is the Holy Spirit and that that is more than enough. That she felt not only my love, but His vast love in that moment. That even when I’m not enough, He is.