ordinary days with an extraordinary God

I want to take off my shoes, fall on my knees. Because surely The Almighty is here, surely this is holy ground. 

"Auntie! Auntie, you see!" hot sun beats down on browned shoulders. i'm watching his legs pump back and forth. "Asanee!" I say, "I see!" Eyes squeeze shut tight, face lifted to the sky, the rush of the wind, his smile so big. 

My hands burn, touching the black, hot gate. It's been a long day in town, walking town and buying fruit at central market. He's sitting on his rock with his favorite Uncle Simon, babbling on about something in a language I don't understand. He greets me with laughter and a bear hug, his four limbs wrapped around my waist, face smashed into my stomach, laughter erupting. 

Late nights and tiptoes and quiet whispers… the aunties are peeking in on their sleeping kids, again. Blankets and footie-pajamas and children burrowed beneath mosquito netting. Misachi. He's laying there, grinning and adorable and content, as always.

 Dark and chilly and quiet mornings. I lay tossing and turning until I surrender to the fact that sleep won't come. I walk out of the gate, running shoes laced and iPod on. And the sight I see, it takes my breath away. Fog rolls and the sky is pink and tiny rays of sunshine burst through the clouds.

I've been at a loss as to what to write on this little blog, because (believe it or not) this life in Uganda is pretty ordinary. Diaper changes and snack time and school and crying children and time-out's and frustration and lots of laughter. What I'm learning is that I serve an extra-ordinary God who meets us in the ordinary.

At first glance, these are all just ordinary moments. But when my heart stills enough to take it all in, I see how extraordinary it really all is. Glory and holiness juxtaposed with sin-stained man, some days the wonder of it brings me to my knees. Ordinary moments and ordinary days, made extraordinary by the presence of a loving, holy God. And I stand, hands uplifted, thankful.