Bearing Witness

Last night, I took the long way home – stopping at a lakeside trail to mosey.  

I like mosey-ing; a little slower than a walk, a lot slower than a jog or run – yet you are still moving…moseying.  

Moseying affords time to look around and to listen to bits of conversation as you pass.

Along that trail I heard lots of giggles, tween girls whispering, rich Spanish voices, tennis balls with their distinctive "thwop"…a motorized toy car with only middle aged men at the controls (they were having so much fun!), swings with their squeaks and clinks; the scraping of a plastic tryke against the uneven concrete, birds, a few squirrels chattering, and the brush of the water against the sand.  

And ducks.  Good grief, a duck could quack God, himself, out of his quiet thoughts!

It was good to walk among other people and not head straight home where the quiet is both delicious and too rich at times.

I moseyed alone through this lakeside theater on the green with its cast weaving in and out of focus. Smiled at folks – especially the kid that ran right into me and my long batik skirted self. He looked so surprised and his dad apologized – which seemed almost silly because he was having so much fun skipping and racing across the bridge. I was the one who interfered with his unfettered play.

Only encountered one person that I already knew – the rest, I can just bear witness of in that snapshot of their lives.  Hopefully, their good lives are full of love and sun and getting back up after a fall and the squeak clink of the swings.  

And really, that's all I can do here as I mosey – to bear witness of what I see.  Is it God that heals that broken heart or opens a solution for the kids in Uganda to go to school so that poverty is more memory than curse?  I think so.  I believe so. Is it God that finds a way for a trafficked 8 year old girl to find rescue and a safe place to rest and learn?  I believe so.  Is it God who brought water to the internally displaced people in Kenya through the Polish embassy?  Yep. I think so.

Does that give me license to be an arrogant twit about what I believe and rattle my Bible in your face if we disagree?  Nope.  But I will continue to bear witness because I am moved by a God I cannot see to relay stories of his goodness, the confounding of his mystery, moments of clarity and aha – that grace that gives us oomph to walk one more mile.  

Elie Wiesel survived the worst of human activity as a Romanian-born Jewish child during the Holocaust.  He has what I wish were a unique perspective on human suffering, overcoming, and community.  He writes: “For the dead and the living, we must bear witness,” and “One person of integrity can make a difference.”  I think about this often – it is sort of my job description in this travelogue through authenticity and north Georgia.

Most of these stories are not mine, I just bear them witness.
 

Blog Bonus:  Celebrate with me that my sister, Mimi, & her husband, Moe, are getting closer to adopting their second kiddo in round two of parenting toddlers!  Please pray for them as they move forward. Their family is also sending their newlywed soldier son to the Middle East…again.

Blog Bonus, Part 2:  I'll be heading to the Dominican Republic at the end of March.  I'm excited to step in as "Connie's Little Helper"…and to do life with a bunch of Virginian high school students as we repair homes, engage the community, and listen to their stories…serve them towards their own economic/community development.  Our goal is not to fix, but to work beside folks who are already mobilizing themselves toward community.  Your prayers & support can make all of the difference for the kids going and the Dominican community.