a moment in the front room

I see things in short film clips and photos quite often.

I will be in a situation, just carrying on as I usually would, and I suddenly feel as if I’m watching a film I am a part of, or looking at a picture I have taken. I know that makes me sound more artsy and dreamy than I really am, but it’s the truth.

I wish I was more descriptive, but I’ll try.

I have a headache, and I’m exhausted. I’m struggling to get over a cold that is putting a damper on my ability to sleep well. It’s been a long day with what seemed like more crying than usual. Everyone is heading over for devotions with the bigger babies, but the littlest ones stay behind. A couple are sleeping, but one is fussing a bit. I scoop her up and escape to the front room, a it’s quieter there and less crowded. The fan is whirring above, and I can hear the crickets outside. The lights are off except for the glow of the green exit sign above the front door. It feels cool for once after this afternoon’s rain, and for that I am so thankful.

I choose the chair with the higher arm rests… My arms get tired holding the little ones with nothing to rest them on. I snuggle the baby onto my chest, lean back, and rub her tiny little back. She fusses a bit more then, softly, from across the Home, I can hear Chayn Hwei playing the guitar. She never plays for us despite our asking, so I listen more closely. She begins singing, soft and slow, with almost no Chinese accent at all… “Everyone needs compassion/Love that’s never failing/Let mercy fall on me/Everyone needs forgiveness/The kindness of a Savior/The hope of nations.”

I get teary at this point. Whether tiredness or happiness or what, this isn’t the first time I’ve gotten teary since being here. This is a song I’ve sang so many times in the past four years. And to hear it for the first time outside of my church is moving. The hope of nations. The hope of Taiwan.

I open my eyes and peek down at the baby. She has one hand rested on her face, and the other is clutching my shirt. She’s asleep. And I just soak in this quiet, blessed moment.

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4 thoughts on “a moment in the front room

  1. I think of the songs, “I’m so glad I’m a part of the family of God,” and “He’s got the whole wide world in His hands.”

    I pray you will soon be feeling better. LUL, Grandma M.

  2. More descriptive??? You paint a precious picture….such fortunate babies…..
    deep compassion and it affects people who read your thoughts. I’m glad that sometimes you can find a cooler, quieter part of a room with a more comfortable rocker. Keep smiling, laughing or crying what ever feels right.
    You are so loved and I trust the cold will soon be gone….(over).

  3. Oh, that was so sweet, I was crying and picturing you guys there taking care of all the little one. Thank you for what you are doing!!!!!!

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