I've spent the vast majority of yesterday quietly sobbing and praying in between seeing patients at work, because my Grandpop is very ill in the hospital. They aren't sure how long he has to live, and I am faced with the difficult decision of if and when is best to travel to Pennsylvania where he is. I have no money, because I just had to pay 800 dollars for unexpected car and tire troubles this week, and rent and loans are due early next week... but money isn't the issue when it comes to going to see him. It's merely an inconvenience. It's the decision of do I go now? because Grandpop is under sedation and may not know I'm there? or do I wait and go when he is feeling better perhaps next weekend? or *gulp* if things take a turn for the worse...
It's been hard.
And yet late last night, in the midst of me drowning in my own selfish problems and sorrow, comes a phone call from someone I've never met. Someone in my same town, literally 3 miles away from where I sat, asking me about adoptions from Amani. Dear, sweet, Jesus. You are unmistakeable in times like these. You remind me that life does go on despite one area feeling like it might collapse. That one or more families are having a burden for your children laid on their hearts from overseas... and that You are providing for them.