Sunday, 4 November 2018

eternity's love

I’m a little bit lost for words at the richness of this season I’m in.  Whether it’s the gift of time and space, for the peaceful pull towards His heart, for wisdom out of nowhere, for clear night skies when I feel delightfully small and am reminded that my God is infinitely big and infinitely able, for dancing snowflakes that tell me He cares about the details too, for the colours of autumn tumbling down the mountain side, for birdsong, for fresh vegetables that I can create all sorts of things with, for majestical sunsets, for faith filled friends, for the things that are starting to make sense in French, for all the rich opportunities I have…. I could go on and on. I’m so surprised by this season of joy. 

But on top of all that I just got to spend a few days at Taizé – a community of a 100 or so Brothers who seek justice and unity. It all started with someone called Brother Roger in the 1940s and ‘The story of Taizé’ is well worth a read if you want to know more. During the second world war where Christians were killing each other, as well as being moved by the disunity amongst Christian denominations, Brother Roger writes, ‘I wondered if a way existed by which one person might understand another completely. I made a decision to assume that way does exist… it needed to begin with myself, to commit myself to understand everything of every other person and it would involve constant return…. I would try and understand everything, rather than try to make everyone understand me… it would involve a lifetime of kindness and mercy…’. 

Brother Roger believed that everyone is sacred, especially those in need. He set up the community in the village of Taizé because it was extremely poor – he believed Christ was closest to the poor and committed himself to a lifetime of poverty. He started alone, knowing he couldn’t force others to see the same way he did. The community now hosts thousands and thousands of visitors every year – 90% of whom are in their teens or twenties. 

Why am I sharing this? I guess because this place really touched me. To see the commitment of these brothers, to take part in their times of prayer, to witness and to join the singing which felt like it came from Heaven and touched my deepest parts and to be reminded that my life is not my own. 

Here are a few of the beautifully simple songs they sing:

Jésus le Christ, lumiére intérieure, ne laisse pas mes ténèbres me parler. Jésus le Christ, lumiére intérieure, donne-moi d’accueilir ton amour. (Lord Jesus Christ, your light shines within us. Let not my doubts or darkness speak to me. Lord Jesus Christ, your light shines within us. Let my heart always welcome your love)

Fiez-vous en Lui, ne craignez pas. La paix de Dieu gardera vos coeurs. Fiez vous en Lui. Alléluia, alleluia. (Trust in Him and do not fear. God’s peace will protect your hearts)

Veni Sancte Spiritus, tu iamoris ignem accende. (Holy Spirit, come to us, kindle in us the light of your love)

Ubi Caritas et amour, ubi caritas Deus ibi est (Where there is charity and love, God is to be found)

After several years working away with Mercy Ships and in this season of abundance, it’s tempting to feel the draw ‘home’. I miss my little flat, the independence, friends, family…. all those things. But at Taizé I was struck as I reflected on my motives. What is my life purpose? Brother Roger talks of Christ’s secret: that He loved us first and that the meaning of our life is therefore, ‘…to be loved forever, to be clothed by forgiveness and trust so that you can then take the risk of giving your life’. One visitor to Taizé talks of discovering, ‘… the deep significance of reconciliation, that living force of hope called forgiveness – not just words, but the means God gives us to live together in peace and understanding’. Taizé has been described as a, ‘springtime for all who are searching for true life’.

And suffice it to say, I found life there. More so than in the entangled thoughts of what the world might ‘owe me’ for my work the last 12 years, or the comforts I might be deserving of, given the sacrifices I had made. It all feels like such nonsense. Tempting, but nonsense. The devotion of these brothers truly touched me. They live out a ‘parable of Community’, not to draw attention to themselves but to point to something beyond themselves. 

I want to live a life that reveals something beyond myself. I want to joyfully use my gift of life for others. I can do that anywhere and I will try. But the subtle pull towards home, which represents ‘comfort and ease’ (for me) is nothing more than that. I’m not saying it represents comfort and ease for everyone – far from it, so don’t misinterpret what I’m saying. I just want to do what I was created for and not get distracted by other ‘good things’. I want to use my life well and this visit allowed me to reflect a little on what that might look like. 

‘If a trusting heart were at the beginning of everything, you would be ready to dare a ‘yes’ for your whole life’ (Brother Roger). Trust reminds us that we are not the ones who have to accomplish everything ourselves and it was a reminder I needed. 

Life in Albertville continues until Easter and after that my plans are still unsure. I am inspired by Brother Roger’s lifetime commitment to kindness and mercy. I hope to keep working with Mercy Ships, but for now I’ll stick with receiving these abundant showers of love so that I can take them wherever my Jesus leads. 

Love forever, KWW x

From my bedroom window

Saturday, 29 September 2018

cliff jumping

4 weeks in and I’m thinking how interesting it is that you so often feel the weakest in the places you were created to be the strongest! There’s an enemy out there who opposes the will of God and he does anything to make us weak. I’m realising that this language learning thing is about so much more than just language. It’s taking so much courage to literally jump off the cliff everyday and it takes every ounce of my introverted spirit to interact ALL day long, to create opinions about things I don’t care too much about and to put all the theory into practice. 

I’m not unhappy – far from it – but I’m very aware that I’m on a journey. I need to overcome a lack of confidence and believe in myself. The fear of getting it wrong or the fear of sailing out into the unknown is real and it makes me want to stay on the safety of the shore. In those moments, I forget the goodness of God and I try to stay in complete control. I wait to hear the cheers that help me feel believed in before I make the jump – but I realise, I need to believe in myself. And it’s hard. Sometimes I’m not sure I can do it. I want to learn quietly in my own room and not out there where everyone can see and hear me. They might realise that I’m stupid after all! It’s a journey of self discovery; I don’t believe that I’m stupid – but somehow I fear, that maybe I am. Control and fear keep me silent and I have to generate the courage to jump off the cliff again and again. And I do. I’m jumping. But it’s taking all I’ve got. I’m realising how much I need to believe in myself so that courage would simply flow… I want to stop making myself small. But for that I need to let go of control. I need to trust that it’s going to be ok. 

Proverbs 31: 8&9
‘Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and the needy’.

It’s a braver journey than I had realised and I’d only do it for Him, for them, for the ones who need a voice. Something deep inside me believes that I was created to speak up for the ‘poor’ (I don’t like that word as most of the people it refers to are so rich in my eyes… but that’s another story…) and so I have to jump off this cliff. Everyday. I will not be made weak where I was designed to be strong! Give me strength to believe in myself, clear away those repeating lies. The ones that tell me people think I’m incapable, the ones that somehow get lived out and end up with an ugly twist of self prophesy. I want to believe in myself. I want to be all you made me to be. I need you to be strong where I feel weak. 

I’ll keep on jumping. I’ll do it for you and I’ll do it for them. I’ll do it for eternity, so that I, in turn, can believe in others. So that armies of those who have been silenced by poverty would rise up and be heard and believe that they have a purpose in this world too. May their passion erupt, may their joy and hope be complete. May the world be lighter because of it!

Proverbs 31: 25
‘She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come’. 

May it be so. 

Let my life be a song, revealing who you are… *

Courage and peace to you. Believe in yourself. 

Love always, KWW

(There's no doubt that it's a gift to be learning these lessons in such a beautiful part of the world….)

* from the song ‘Salt & Light’ by Lauren Daigle

Oh the beauty of the King
You make righteous those who seek
You have written and redeemed my story

Let my eyes see Your kingdom shine all around
Let my heart overflow with passion for Your name
Let my life be a song, revealing who You are
For You are salt and light

Oh the love that set me free
You bring hope to those in need
You have written and redeemed my story

Let my eyes see Your kingdom shine all around
Let my heart overflow with passion for Your name
Let my life be a song, revealing who You are

For You are salt and light
You are love's great height
You are deep and wide
A consuming fire

You are salt and light
You are love's great height
You are deep and wide
A consuming fire

Let my eyes see Your kingdom shine all around
Let my heart overflow with passion for Your name
Let my life be a song, revealing who You are
For You are salt and light
You are salt and light
For You are salt and light
For You are salt and light

Wednesday, 5 September 2018

back to school

I feel like I might be in Heaven but then again, school starts tomorrow morning so maybe not!! I’m in Albertville, France for 7 months to master (in my dreams) the French language and it is breathtakingly beautiful. Just like that another new beginning has started. 

The more I’m away from my beloved bateau, the more I realise taking a break was the right thing to do. I’m still uninstalling the ‘must keep busy’ mode from my mind-set but instead of the constant planning that I had become accustomed to, I’m having the most wonderful opportunities to explore and be OUTSIDE. It’s one of the things I missed the most; fresh air, walks, bike rides, beautiful views, birdsong, silence, breezes, the scent of flowers…. all these things make my spirit come alive and it is such a gift to be here. 

(note the snow capped mountain poking through!)

It feels like an utter privilege to have learning French as my focus for now and it’s giving me time to take care of myself a little better too. There are certain things that I notice I now have time for (like using my electric tooth brush or reading the news) versus feeling too busy on the ship to even consider these things most of the time! How ridiculous that the whirl had got so whirl-ish.  

Coming to France has been a secret dream since I was about 17, I think. It’s one of those laid down dreams that I thought would never happen – I remember leafing through magazines wondering if I could become an au pair or pick grapes in a vineyard and learn to speak French. Even so, it’s scary and it can be lonely. Arriving wasn’t exactly a joy! Honestly, it felt like ANOTHER time I had to be brave and feel alone. To be grown up and just put one foot in front of the other and believe I am where I am supposed to be. On Monday we had a test and as I sat at my desk and the paper was placed in front of me, I truly considered telling the teacher I had tummy ache and needed to go home! What a ninny I am. 

Changing seasons are never easy and I still have bulging tears in my eyes when I see a Mercy Ship video. I will never tire of seeing hope born. I feel immensely thankful for the beautiful summer I had at home. I enjoyed family and friends and the fresh air and sunny days so much and as the days are starting to get shorter and cooler, I am beginning to want to hold on to these beautiful months I had. And then I remember that I will soon get to see the leaves changing colour and even see some snow – things I have missed so much these last years. And so just like you can’t hold back the seasons, you can’t in life either! You have to metaphorically let go of the sunshine on your back and look forward to the new vistas that will come as the trees shed their leaves. Just like I can’t pick up the leaves and stick them back on, I can’t pick up all the beautiful things I am having to let go of and put them back on either. If I did, I would miss out on autumn colours and making snow angels and who would want to do that?  

My pencil case is ready and my heart will surely catch up. I’m here to learn a language, which I hope to be able to use to express rich and unconditional love to future friends and colleagues. 

Seasons come and seasons go but I’m a firm believer that it’s never ever the end of the story; the best is always yet to come. 

Bring it on. Love always. KWW

Wednesday, 20 June 2018


I’m home and it’s feeling like a dream. A week on and I’m finding myself overhearing all sorts of English accents and wanting to somehow connect with them, ‘where are you from? I’m from England too!’ and then I realise, I am IN England. I’m home.

It wasn’t 48 hours since I’d left Cameroon for London before I was on a plane to Africa again. I’d said my goodbyes on my most precious floating home and my pre-grieving was done. It didn’t mean leaving was easy, far from it. My heart has expanded these last years and I’ve never known people with such capacity to serve or been engulfed in such love myself or swept up in showers of such immeasurable and unexpectedly beautiful gifts day after day. Leaving felt like a courageous step and yet there wasn’t a hint of doubt in my soul. It brought a quiet peace, a passport of hope and promises of greater adventures to come.

Part of my handover to my successor included an ‘Assessment trip’ and hence the reason I was on my way to Senegal for a week. Our task was to build relationship and to gather information that would inform program design for the ships’ 10 month Field Service in August 2019. I’ve come to realise that one of my greatest pleasures in life is building trust. Funny isn’t it?, But it’s the essence of why I think I enjoyed being a nurse for all those years in ICU. Faced with numerous people often on the brink of death, walking through their biggest nightmare, trust became a precious commodity. If I could use any love or kindness or gentleness, or any whisper of compassion that would allow them to trust me or to trust the team in a way that would bring them peace, then I felt I had won. And I found it immensely satisfying.

And so here I was once again, embracing a week of meetings with those from the Ministry of Health, Hospital Directors and anyone with influence in the world of surgery in Senegal. I loved it. I love not only the privilege of discovering a country we haven’t been to (at least, not for 20+ years), of explaining who Mercy Ships is and our desire to walk alongside, to provide surgery, to strengthen the skills of those working within the surgical system; but I also love the privilege of feeling God’s heart for a nation, of building for eternity. I love seeing and feeling and I love dreaming with my God. And I love building trust.

It was our final meeting on the Friday afternoon and my plane was just a few hours away. We met with 2, obviously Muslim, men. They worked for an organisation who were partnering with Miraclefeet, an organisation who we have also partnered with in the past… and a relationship I have also enjoyed building trust within. It’s essential for us to build sustainable programs that will last long after we have left a Country and so part of our role is to figure out what is going on already. We don’t want to tread on anyone’s feet or naively do harm and so the unravelling can be quite a task. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle and sometimes if takes several weeks or months to find the pieces and to wonder where our programs will fit in, if at all. Sometimes we never even find all the pieces at all but our job is to look and these guys were key.  We talked about our clubfoot program and about the opportunities to work together and augment what they are already doing. It was an honour, but what struck me most was the hearts of these beautiful men. I felt angry at the injustice of how much of the Muslim world is portrayed and my heart was moved by their immense compassion. They shared a fierce passion for justice and before I knew it, I felt our hearts collide. God’s vision, right there. Hope and redemption for bent feet in this nation.

We parted with tears in our eyes. The trust journey had begun and to say I’m excited to see what God will do is a mere glimmer of the deep joy I feel. It won’t just be tangible hope and new life for these kids, it won’t just be for their families either, but it will be in the hearts of the team, the mercy shippers, the locals, the onlookers, the neighbours, the Ministers… it will be redemption far beyond what we will ever know. The seeds were sewn and oh, what a sweet and utter privilege.

And so now I’ve been home for just over a week and it feels like I’m learning to walk again. It felt easier, somehow, to dart from one thing to the next. It felt easier to walk in the experience and competence I had found. But God’s call is higher than that and I’m in the midst of figuring out what trust looks like for me and my next steps. I’d like to run, that’s for sure; there are dreams and hopes I’d rather run into than slowly amble through. But that’s not how it goes and anyway, I can’t miss the beauty on the way. England teaches you a lot about trust – you can open your eyes to grey and drizzly days and long for something different, or you can enjoy the adventure of a new day and wonder at what it will bring. For now, I will nestle myself into home, into blowy cliff top walks and enjoy the, hard to articulate, ease and beauty of being ‘home’.  I have a sense that everything has been leading to this moment and that this moment too, will become part of what is needed to equip me for the next steps. Trust.

I feel the refining, the sense of laying my identity down, the thrill of the free fall and yet the fear of what landing might look like or what others might think.

I’ll trust my Daddy and there is no better. I’ll trust Him with full hope, full love and without limit. I’ll rest in the warm shadows of the unchanging goodness of God.

Trust. To build it. To feel it. To receive it. To give it. It’s an immense privilege and I’m hungry to build some more.

Love always, KWW xx

Sunday, 27 May 2018

reckless love

In a few short days, I will say goodbye to this wonderfully rich place. This last month, we have had numerous final ceremonies to honour the people we have had the privilege to work with. To name a few....

34 participants celebrating at the Agriculture graduation

10 of the 23 graduates receiving their certificates from City and Guilds at the Biomed Graduation

42 participants including those from our Surgeon, Anaesthesia, Nursing, Physiotherapy, Biomed and Sterile Processing mentoring programs at Hopital General receiving their certificates last week. 

Our team celebrating 24 children with straight feet at the final Ponseti Celebration

Our Managing Director presenting a gift to the Minister of Health at our Thank you Ceremony earlier this month. 

  Last Friday we said goodbye to 270 Day Crew - our Cameroonian team whom without we would have achieved literally NOTHING!

Life doesn’t get much richer than when you get to celebrate the power of God at work and the tremendous things that we have achieved together. There have been 2746 life changing surgeries and 1564 people have been a part of our medical capacity building programs! Who knows how many people these will go on to impact.

In this place I have found friends to share the deepest parts of my heart, my hopes and dreams - and failures too. When you get to rub shoulders with people who see you for who you are, who challenge you to see beyond what meets the eye and who call you higher, it’s pretty special.  

I’ve been challenged a lot lately as I think about leaving a place that holds so much of my heart and my understanding of who I am…. I’ve been reminded that I am still me, wherever I go, and that God is too. I am committed to a continent that I love so much, to a people who understand and express joy far more beautifully than I have ever experienced and to a culture that teaches me how to always put people first. I am committed to continue to fight fiercely for light to overcome the injustices that continue to affect so many.

Our God is extravagantly good. He’s kind, He’s gracious, He’s full of mercy. He literally gives hope to the hopeless, He sets people free and He clothes those who were once mourning with pure joy. I have witnessed it, I can testify to it and even though I come away with some battle scars, there are a million faith building victories that I hope will fuel my future steps.

Let’s not stop dreaming friends. We can’t. We are here on Earth for a purpose and the best is yet to come.

This is what love looks like. Baby Paul at the brink of death, now facing a life full of opportunity. Unbelievable. More than we could ask or imagine. It's been a privilege to serve with individuals who pour out such a reckless kind of love.

Here's to more as we watch the next part of the story unfold.

Thanks for friendship and love forever, KWW

Saturday, 5 May 2018

faith, hope and love...

I wonder how you capture the end of a season -- knowing that it will never be quite the same. I have truly been transformed by the power of faith, hope and love.

Traveling throughout Benin a couple of weeks ago has given me time for thought. We wanted to invest some time to visit some of the hospitals who we delivered training to a year ago and learn a bit. Did we do what we said we’d do? How could we do better next time? And how can we encourage the teams we met?

We had the privilege of observing several operations and some beautifully humble teams hard at work. Without surprise, the majority of surgeries that happen in many hospitals in Benin are Caesarian sections. Sometimes planned, sometimes emergencies and sometimes really really dire emergencies. As you drive past the villages whose population is served by the 'Hopitaux des zones' you begin to understand the kind of people who end up through their gates and on their operating tables. People without any money, without any belongings except enough for today, and maybe not even that. People who try all sorts of other solutions when faced with obstructed labour, before they may arrive for help.

And so I was delighted to witness the first breath of a precious baby girl. Her tense little limbs lifted out of the safety of her first home to embrace the coolness of the operating room. Held by her ankles, she was welcomed into the world and swung (gently) in front of her mother’s face to show she was a girl before being whisked into the comfort of the midwives skilled hands.

I wasn't present for the next one but I enjoyed hearing the cry that announced her arrival.  --- We had barely noticed your mother enter the operating room - we were busily chatting to the staff right outside, asking questions about the training, and before we knew it, you were out! Abdomen open and out you came. I didn't even hear a whimper from your brave mother and there she was, all alone. Your tufts of dark curly hair and your full volume cry gave me a glimpse of who you are. Fight beautiful little one, tell the world you've arrived! I prayed that your precious little feet would be blessed and that you’d be a woman of courage, influence and power.  

But then there was the one whose cry we didn't hear. Your mother was too late. Who knew what kept her - fear, money, geography - I don't know. Her uterus had ruptured and the focus was on saving her life.... I didn't see you, I didn't know you, I don't even know from where you came. But I saw your mother there - groaning just slightly - as her abdomen gaped open - and I saw that she was tough. You were her tenth baby. Only 6 have survived. I imagined what that must feel like. I imagined how inevitable some of this must be - to lose a child - and I hated it. I hated to think that this would never be me. I hated to think that I would always get the health care I needed and when I needed it. My heart rested as I imagined you with Jesus. And the words of our driver from that morning rang in my head, ‘we do nothing, except through Him; we only wake up because of Him; we only live another day, because of Him’. It says nothing to the injustice and the grief, but I lifted up my eyes and gave thanks.

Thank you for another day. Thank you for the life of this mother who can wake up another day. Thank you for the grace and skill of a surgical team who do so much with so little.

My last few years have been full of stories of faith -- and hope -- and love and I am so thankful.

As I sat belted on the plane back to Douala after 10 magnificent days in Benin, my eyes filled with tears. It's the relationships that undo me.

That same day, I had walked into CNHU - the hospital I had spent hours at in 2014 as a part of our Advance team, carefully building foundations for a field service that took 2 more years to start than we planned. Ebola sent us sailing 1000s of miles in the other direction and meanwhile Benin waited patiently. The smiles were slightly wry when we returned 2 years later; '…we told you Ebola wouldn’t come to us!'. I remember the reunions and the satisfaction of delivering our belated promises. How rich it all was. And so nearly 4 years later from our original meeting, I walked into the ENT department at Cotonou's university hospital. I immediately spotted the department’s chief. His back was towards me but as his colleague signaled to him that someone was approaching, he turned. 'Ce n'est pas vrai!'  With hugs and kisses, he sent us to wait in his office. Others were there also waiting and so we attempted to wait outside but it didn't take long before the office dwellers were kicked out. I resisted, ‘…ce n'est pas nécessaire!'.... but the response : 'C'est absolument nécessaire! C'est Mercy Ships! C'est nécessaire!'  - and we took our seats. I could hear the corridor ripples - 'Mercy Ships sont la!' and I saw the photo of me and others on his wall.

I knew already that relationships were what it was all about, but that day I learned it some more. The chief of the department and the head nurse told us over and over, ‘…you're different to other missions! Please tell your people that. You must pass it on. You're different. You're the best. Others come, they don't speak the language, they operate in our operating rooms and they don't even tell us what they are doing. Mercy Ships, you are different! You didn't forget us. You came to say hello!’.

And even as I write this, tears are streaming down my face. Somehow it's too much. Somehow my God did more than I could ask or imagine. He made it all new. He worked it all together for His glory. He did it again. Who knows how to quantify that in our statistics or our reports to our amazing donors. Love deposited? Is that what we'd call it? I don't know. But I see love in that moment and it's one of the most powerful lessons I've been learning. Relationship matters. And it's why I so desire to stay a part of what Mercy Ships do. We’ve seen it here in Cameroon as well and as far as our medical capacity building programs go, I can only describe what I see as an open Heaven. Immense favour. Wonderful relationships and a lasting impact that will impact generations to come.

He does it every time. When we submit ourselves, when we let Him have His way, when we love one another - He redeems, He creates, He lets love abound.

On my journey I noticed the flowering trees that apparently only flower in the dry season and when all the other trees around have lost their leaves, their beauty stands out even more. How wise they were to drink in the rain when it came and to use it for glory when all around was dry. Jesus, make me like these trees! I want your glory to shine around, I want to reflect it, even when all around is barren and dry. Let your sweet aroma and stunning beauty somehow shine through. And it does. All the time.

I tense, not just a little, when I hear some say that our time in Cameroon has been difficult. I understand it and I agree. There have been challenges with this new relationship. But something in that statement makes me want to shout. Negative talk never breeds life. Speculation that speaks from difficult past experience creates earthly vision. We are called higher than that and we are called to see through the eyes of faith that say nothing is impossible. That says light overcomes darkness. That believes mountains move and that Gods Kingdom is coming here on Earth. That believes that we have a part in God’s unfolding story. I refuse to cooperate with anything less.

It's about the journey and not just the destination. How do we represent faith, hope and love on the way?

It's all about relationships. Amongst each other, amongst our hosts in every nation.

May love win. Always. And may His Kingdom come here on Earth.

Love forever, KWW

A few of the many million mangos we saw on our journey. 5 for about 50p

Saturday, 7 April 2018

grief begins... 54 sleeps to go...

I came to give and it all got turned upside down.
The sharp edges and the broken pieces.
They found a place to be more whole.
I came to do my bit, to experience the privilege of watching and learning
from those so much richer than myself.
I wanted them to know that they are loved –
The ones whose tumours and bent bones
had twisted the world’s view of who they really are.
The ones who know far more about faith, about hope,
about watching and waiting than I.
The so called poor.
And meanwhile, it was me who was poor.
My gross tumours metastasizing their way to make me play small. Glaring me in the face.
If only I had their courage.
To step into the unknown.
To hold the mirror up and stare them in the face.

Your sweet corridor songs,
your eyes that have met mine,
your unshakable faith.
It has taught me so much.
And to the teams I have been a part of and the treasures that have been such gold on my path – you have no reason to trust me but I’m humbled that you did.
Your passion has inspired me.
Your vision has astounded me.
You have pruned me
with kindness and grace.
On my off days you have always given me a second chance.
I wanted you to know that you are trusted and treasured.
That you could move mountains.
And to be known for who you are.
And in it, you’ve shown me what love looks like in a million different ways.

I wonder how this country girl got so rich.
To begin to understand
that I belong just as much as you.
To find wings that allow me to soar
above the opinions of others and the battles below.
To know the gift of forgiveness which has set this broken heart free.

There’s more to be done
And there are too many days I forget to stand tall.
Or to remember who I am.
There are too many who don’t yet get to be known for who they really are.
So let’s not give up. Not yet.

Thanks to the brave man with this crazy dream
and to the ones who cheered him on.
Which allowed this puzzle a chance to be played.
Whose pieces are wrapped in grace, wrapped in love, wrapped in even deeper hopes of eternity.
I came to give and it got turned upside down.
And deeper thanks, you will never know.

MCB Final Dinner - by the nature of what we do, we are not often in the same place at the same time!