Our last full day here and we look ahead to our journey back. Only one short week, but it doesn’t take much time when a heart is open, stretched to see beyond what one saw before. We go around the circle and share what questions we would like to be asked, challenged by, when we return. We don’t want to forget this, and we fear we will, without community around us to help our hearts stay.
“How as your heart transformed? How was your heart broken?”
“How will you live a life fully abandoned to what He has, now that you see what it looks like, in the lives of the founders of Mi Casa, to surrender it all, and give, in faith?”
“How will we not be tourists, but stay connected to the children here, to the lives here, to be open to where the Father calls?”
“How do you merge the tugging of your heart — which happened here — with the day-to-day details of life at home?”
“How do we permeate our communities back in the Bay Area, and not isolate, nor assimilate?”
“How do we continue to see this as a beginning of loving, a beginning of serving, a beginning of going, of listening, of following, of abandoning the routine and doing all, in His name — like one team member said — with “reckless abandon”?
“What do we do now? How do we remember this is always, always, a beginning?”
And we know.
And we pile into cars and celebrate God’s glory, soak in His magnificence at a beach between Rosarita and Ensenada. We put on our suits and we dance in His waves, His blue liquid love, while the whales spray in the distance, and the dolphins arc into the air.
We hear Him call and we don’t know what is next. We hear Him call and we don’t know what He will say as we bend our ears again, our hearts open to listening with all that we have. We dance in the waves with Him and rejoice in the sound of our children laughing, the freedom they have to sing, to live, to breathe, to be. We share hearts on the beach and remember the feeling of hands clasped and tugged tight, of dust in our nostrils and water balloons thrown up high. We remember wild horses and puppies and rainbows and beauty, and crutches and orphans who cry “Mama” to whomever will accept the request. We remember the coming together of strangers who have become family, of thankful prayers of hearts changed, of the ache of feeling vulnerable and realizing this is where He is, where He holds our hearts and turns them inside out, all for Him. All for Him.
And we want to stay. And we want to go. We want to continue this journey of stepping out, staying out, leaning on Him to help us love with full hearts. We are nothing without You, Father. You are our rock. We are so grateful.
And we hear His voice, a song that calms the waves . . .
My children who sing, who dance, who call out wildly to the waves and hear My cry, I love you. I dance when you dance. I sing when you sing. You join with the angels when community in My name gathers. I sent you and you heard the call and answered. I have not forgotten you, I said. And I have led you here to begin a new work, to begin a new thing, to begin a new song. A song that will give you life, will reverberate through the mountain tops so that it is the only song your heart longs to hear. I am your God, and I long to have you stay out there, not retreat back where it is comfortable. How can it be comfortable, child, if you do not go where I call? Look where I have placed you, and heed my call when I send you. There is much in store. And yes, a beginning. Always a beginning with Me.
Oh, Father, hold this team. We are a few of many. Hold us close.
You are the ones I sent to do a good work. And I will continue to send you out. I am not through with you yet. My children, how You make Me smile.
And in the evening, our last night there, we walk up to the three crosses on the hill, overlooking the Mi Casa ranch, and we sing the songs He has placed on our hearts. The songs we will continue to sing long after we leave. The songs that come from full hearts. The songs we are made to sing.