The story of the overseas orphanage
Will stay with me
For a very, very long time.
Rows and rows
Of occupied cribs.
With no place to call home.
With no-one to love them
And no-one to respond,
They simply learn to remain quiet.
A room full of babies and toddlers
Does not equal quiet,
Not to this Western mind.
When one of these precious boys
Learned there was someone who loved him,
He let out a devastated cry
As they left.
They couldn’t take him with them,
Not that time.
He had learned there was someone who cared,
Their hands were tied.
How he must have rejoiced
When the loving couple
Returned and took him home,
His cries never to be ignored again.
And then there’s me.
And too often forget
To thank the One who gave me wings.
And forget to call out
To the Only One who gives lift to these wings.
I see others in need
And only mention those needs in passing
To the One who has infinite resources.
No law but His own governs Him.
He is always attentive to my cry,
Always able to meet my every need
And the needs of others.
I must never take for granted
The Joy Giver,
The God who is always listening
For my singing heart
Or my cries for help.
For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God…(Romans 8:14-16, ESV)