This morning, I was making tea (of the Kenyan variety) when my daughter asked, “Are you out?”
“Almost,” I said, swirling the jar of tea leaves to show how few were left.
Her response? Not “We need to go to Wal-Mart.” Not even “Can we order some online?” No. My daughter eyes me with an earnestness I can feel and says:
“We have to go back to Africa.”
Then she says, “But not today.”
Too right. And not surprising coming from the girl who told me all she wanted for Christmas was a globe.
Some days she would live every day of her life right here where we are; others, she looks at a globe wistfully and wishes she could show her brother the things her young eyes have seen. Already she knows the terrible feeling of being torn, torn between two places you love, between many things you like, between pressing forward and waiting patiently, between where you are and where God may one day take you.
And, I wonder: How can I teach her to trust in his ways, his word and his timing when I am still learning to do so myself? How can I teach her to follow when my faith is so frail? How do I show her the world from our little window of it?
The only way I know how. By sharing with her my love of other cultures and of the God who created them, the one who loves them and knows them and desires to be known by them. And, maybe, just maybe, by giving her a globe. After all, she has been asking for one.