Sometimes

We sat around the table mashing play-dough into animals when 9 year old Sheyma asked me in Arabic, “Do you ever cry?” Immediately the ‘house mother’ of the orphanage shushed her for asking a ‘shameful’ question.

Turning to the girl, I answered her, “Sure, I cry sometimes.” Suddenly every little eye in the room was on me, as well as the shocked house mother. (Islam and the culture have little room for expression of authentic emotions, and especially little room for tears.)

“Why do you cry?” Sheyma pressed.

“I might cry if I am sad. It helps.”

“Do you cry when someone dies?”

“Yes, because I am sad when someone dies.”

She paused.

“Do you cry because your parents died too?”

Not a girl breathed as they waited to hear my answer. I knew I didn't have the answer they hoped for.

Sometimes my heart aches so much for the people in darkness here and for these sweet girls, I have to ask Father on a daily basis to give me faith to believe that one day He can restore and redeem broken hearts and make glad His people. That one day they may come to know Him and He will tell them that He never despised their tears, but instead He held their every tear in a bottle as their culture shamed their weeping.

"There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God." Ps 46:4