I stood in the rain this morning, wrapped in my polka dotted raincoat, waving and blowing kisses. They are off, headlong into the setting sun. How many waves of the sea are between us now. Yet, this is how it must be. I feel my fingers releasing, one by one: these gifts given are not mine to keep.
As I am checking the flight tracker, Sam comes in, telling me that he’d like a quiver and some arrows to round out what he’s planned for his Spring Break. “Ahh, Samuel,” I am waxing eloquent with the poet’s words, “Tell me how children are like arrows.”
He muses on this a bit, then declares it must be because children are sent out, just like arrows, to be “Leaders for Righteousness” in the world. I smile, determined to pray for the path of the arrows and not to dwell on the dwindling quiver.
I find a new focus for my prayer life. Estonia. Baltic Europe. A little red star on the southern tip of the Gulf of Finland marks Tallinn, the capital city. This is where my children are going. It is one of the least religious areas of Europe. These people are not hostile, just indifferent. But might the Lord have some in this city? In Tartu?
And perhaps you would join me in praying for a motley group of flannel clad Vermonters, longing to bring hope to a broken world.