It’s been a fairly quiet week here on the shores of the Caribbean. A trip to town for groceries, some blood work for two of the babies, and Annie leaving for a trip home pretty much sums up the “big events”… though of course, each day has its unique aspects, its challenges and joys and simple pleasures. Sometimes we take joy in the smallest little things. Like pancakes in our room after the babies are in bed. Or a cupful of bran flakes, which have been sitting (opened) on the shelf for months, but are still somehow more appetizing than noodles with a fishy-smelling sauce. J Or a video of one of the babies trying to sit up on her own, but eventually toppling over with a big grin on her face. (Sometimes I wonder why we enjoy watching videos of the same children we are with all day and all night… but such is the life of a mother, I suppose. J)

I don’t have a lot to share today. Many things have been on my mind and heart, of course, but nothing that wants to come out in any intelligible matter, I don’t think. Only this: I have been learning from Jesus about the concept of being poor in spirit over the past days, and it has been beautiful. I know I have barely scratched the surface of all there is to learn about this subject, but He has given me a deeper understanding and I am beginning to see how huge it is, how foundational.

That first part of Matthew five that we call “the Beatitudes” is such an amazing passage. It looks so upside-down to this world… but that’s because the world is hanging by its feet as it looks at it. J I believe that the One who created reality has the true perspective on it.

Being poor in spirit doesn’t mean shuffling around in rags with a sour expression. So what does it mean? Why not look at it yourself, and ask the Author to give you understanding on it? If you want to know what I have been learning, try looking up these verses and seeing how they connect: Matt 5:3, Matt. 11:29, John 5:19, and John 15:4.

We serve a big God, people! And a good one. So big and so good, in fact, that knowing Him is life! (John 17:3) Why not throw ourselves upon His grace today, and allow Him to be big and to be good in our lives? 

 (Here's a little extra... )

Kelsey held my hand lightly, awkwardly, as we walked down the concrete stairs and out toward the beach. I swung our hands back and forth, smiling at her. She loosened up a little. Her red-and-white checkered dress looked happier than her eyes.

The beach is pretty packed on Saturday afternoon; I had forgotten that. I made a quick decision to veer right, and we headed down the shoreline, away from the crowd. Since Kelsey’s English is limited and my Creole is even more so, I couldn’t explain to her that I just wanted to hang out with her, enjoy the water, and just have some fun. Who knows what she thought I wanted to do. So I tried to show her. I shook off my sandals and stepped into the water. She did the same.

“Kisa ou fe jodi a?” I asked her. What did you do today, supposedly.

She squinted up at me and repeated the phrase a couple of times in different ways, probably trying to figure out what in the world I was asking. Finally she seemed to understand, and answered, “Travay.” Work.

I nodded. I’m sure she’s right. She lives in a small half-apartment next door with about 8 babies and toddlers and two nannies. “Ou remenm travay?” Silly question, I know. Do you like to work? She said yes. Her older brother lives in a similar apartment a few doors down. They are both incredibly helpful to the nannies. I don’t fully understand why, but for some reason they, and their two siblings, are not adoptable. I think it’s because of HIV.

After a few minutes, I picked up my sandals and smiled at Kelsey, facing down the shore. “Try to catch me,” I said, and started running.

She ran too, beside me, farther up the sand. She ran fast. She laughed, her eyes and her smile as bright as her dress.

We stopped, panting and laughing, at a spot where some sandstone and pieces of coral made the beach more rocky. There we played for the next half-hour or so, building little houses and pools in the sand and rock, playing “marbles” with some choice stones (at least, she played; marbles is not one of my skills), and sifting through handfuls of sea gravel to find interesting shells and pretty little rocks. A couple of people walking by stopped to see what we were doing. I’m sure it looked a little silly, an adult building little houses in the sand. But at least this time I had a child with me, unlike the other day. J And who cares what they thought?

We talked a little as we played, both in English and Creole; sometimes I couldn’t tell which. It was definitely one of those times I wished I had a better grip on the language, but still it was a sweet time, and she didn’t want to leave. I hope we can do it again soon.

What an amazing privilege we have of allowing God’s love—love that He has lavished on us without reserve—to flow through us onto those around us. And how much more amazing that what we do for these little ones, the “least” by the world’s twisted standards, we do for Him! It may not be playing with a little girl on the beach for you, but ask Him, and He will show you someone He wants to love through you today.