Ronne’s Words.

Hi there. If you’d like to read more of my musings, you may visit my other blogsite. Yes, I call myself a ChristStumbler. I love the Lord, but I trip over my own humanity so often. And He is always there to pick me up and set me on the path again.

Here’s an example of what you’ll find. I wrote it during my last visit to Guatemala.

Hold One Another.

Hold one another to the highest.

As I sit and look out onto the volcanos surrounding the stillness of Lake Atitlan, these words resonate in my heart. While this morning’s devotional was perfect for the view – Psalm 148 seems to have been written for a place such as this – I find myself caught up in a very different beauty, a very different form of praise to the Lord who loves us so much and delights in us so deeply.

Hold one another to the highest.

(Those words are a quote from Amy Carmichael, a missionary to India. She shared with friends “missionary life is a chance to die.” She devoted herself to risking reputation, status, and comfort if it meant she could save a child from suffering – going so far as to die her skin with dark coffee to immerse herself more into the culture and people. Reading about her life convicts me to the core.)

Yesterday, as the men in our group painted metal roofing and moved piles of dirt to build a bus stop for the village school being established at Eagle’s Nest, and the women traveled into town to negotiate for produce and meat at the local open air market, eleven little faces watched and waited. Ranging in age from two to ten, the orphans at Eagle’s Nest are hungry – for time. The girls delight in playing “beauty shop” and the boys love loading rocks into the toy dump trucks. Each could spend hours swinging and spinning on the old merry-go-round. But there is something even more important to each of them. Being held. We started and ended our day with them – laughing, playing, hugging.

Hold one another to the highest.

Walking along the street near the market in Solola, I saw her. An older woman slowly made her way up the hilly bricked road. Dressed in traditional garb, she carried her child in a sling on her back. He held tightly to her, his arms around her neck. His little legs were withered, his body contorted. He was her child, but he was not a child. The son she carried was a grown man.

Whether it’s holding a hand, snuggling in close on a lap, or being carried, the orphans, and the mom, understand something I think we easily forget. There is healing power in a hug – for both people. The Lord longs for us to risk our own comfort, our reputation, to care for others. We are to reach out, lift up, hold steady, lift high.

I pray today we each hold one another.

~Ronne

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: