Your face, a memory; your hope, a fire.

On Monday in Montego Bay, Jamaica, the last place we visited was the Hope Hospice, which is a home for aging people and those with serious illnesses. Our only mission was to have Christmas with the people there, so our group came armed with presents.

I went into one room and stayed there for the whole time. I held the hand of a 95-year-old man named Charles, and we sang Christmas songs until we had to leave. The other man in the room, a young guy named Samuel, sat on his bed and sang with us. Charles wanted very badly to sing, but explained that it was difficult and painful to do so.

After a few minutes, with quite a large and sincere smile on his face, Samuel told us how thankful he was that we visited and that he felt blessed to be with us. He went on to say that all of us are weak, but that we are all blessed, and that the songs we were singing were a joy and a comfort to him. Then he said, "You make me feel like I'm not sick anymore."

I never ever want to forget those words, just like I never want to forget how it felt to cradle a little girl who rarely gets cradled, what it meant to look down at a 9-year-old girl and assure her that she is beautiful and loved, the rush of freedom that passed over me while pushing a child's wheelchair fast through the grass. And if I have learned anything from Jamaica, it's that moments like these happen when we open our hearts and give away our love and allow ourselves to accept love in return.

This past week has changed me, and I never want to be the same again.

Your pain has changed me,
Your dreams inspire,
Your face, a memory;
Your hope, a fire.
Your courage asks me what I'm afraid of,
and what I know of love,
and what I know of love.
-sara groves

Carrie Ann

I get to go back to Montego Bay, Jamaica in just two days. One girl that I am particularly excited to see is named Carrie Ann. She lives in a home for disabled kids (although Carrie Ann herself is 28) near Lethe, Jamaica called Westhaven.

Carrie Ann can't walk or sit up. She spends much of her time in her bed and also in a special wheelchair. She never leaves Westhaven. A couple of years ago, she was given a CD of worship songs as a present, and it's one of her favorite possessions. She knows every single song on the CD by heart, and the music seems to be a source of comfort and euphoria for her, reminding her that there is a God to whom she can turn.

Last summer, when we visited Westhaven, many of the kids and visitors gathered and we sang songs with Carrie Ann. I remember her singing, "Did you feel the darkness tremble?" Those lyrics weren't just nice words. The darkness really does tremble when Carrie Ann sings to her God, and placing her on the stage of a megachurch would not make her voice any more important and beautiful than it already is. Carrie Ann inspires me to shout my love for God even when my circumstances tell me not to, and I hope that her story can inspire you too.

Love <33

Currently Listening She Must and Shall Go Free By Derek Webb see related

so could You love this bastard child
though I don't trust You to provide
with one hand in a pot of gold,
and with the other in your side

because I am a whore, I do confess
I put You on just like a wedding dress
and I run down the aisle, run down the aisle
I'm the prodigal with no way home
I put You on just like a ring of gold
and I run down the aisle, run down the aisle
to You.
-derek webb

Jesus teach me how to love.

I graduated from high school, and I got a new job at the garden center down the road. The beginning of summer is scheming both comfort and adventure, and I can't wait for June sunsets, outdoor concerts, cicadas & fireflies.

<3

The Candy Man

About two years ago, I stepped off of a bus near Lethe, Jamaica and walked through the gate of Westhaven Home for Disabled Children. One of the first kids to meet me there was named Marlon, whose grin grew bigger with every piece of candy he gleaned. For the past two summers I have gone to visit Marlon and his Westhaven family, and his gleaming smile and kind voice have made my visits there brighter.

On Monday, May 19, Marlon passed away. He's now in Heaven, with no more wheelchair and no more sickness.

The kids at Westhaven have such vibrant spirits, and although many of them sit in wheelchairs, they deserve to break away and dance and play ball. Marlon gets to do that now, and I can't wait to see him again.

Marlon, you and your sister and your friends are in my heart now and forever. I love you. <3