Water and the Word

It started in a bathroom in Ukraine.

Our church missions’ team had arrived in Kiev and each of us was dropped off with a host family.  After my evening meal of borscht and conversation with the family’s three daughters, I prepared myself for the next nine days of the trip.  The following morning, I went into the bathroom to take a shower.  It was a slow drip, drip, drip and I soon realized the water pressure was pretty low.  I stood in the drips until it was time to get ready to go.  

Back home, we had several folks praying in our small church.  The backstory is that nearly a year before this trip, I had the sense from the Lord that I was supposed to go – that He had something for me there.  After much prayer and conversation with my husband, we agreed I should join the team.  I arrived in Ukraine, looking for God.  

My mind mused over all these things in the shower. 

Drip, drip, drip. 

The days passed and were full of travel, sharing the gospel, and listening to people’s stories.  Their eyes spoke volumes.  We shared, we listened, we worshiped, we prayed.  

Drip, drip, drip.  

We visited orphanages and I fought the idea of wanting to bring all the children home with me.  One night, arriving late at the host home with all the lights off, I electrocuted myself and wondered when God was going to do His “big reveal” for me.  Had I missed it?  

Drip, drip, drip.

It was the last full day of our trip and I was beginning to wonder if I had not heard the Lord correctly.  That morning we visited a village and a group of women gathered in an auditorium.  Something amazing happened and by the end of our visit, a new church had been planted.  Wow!  Maybe this was it?  Still, I had this feeling. 

 Drip, drip, drip.

We made our way back to an orphanage we had visited earlier and took a brother and sister out to lunch, as it was his birthday.  We knew the children, for they were in the process of being adopted by the worship leader at our church.  We all piled back in the van to bring them to the orphanage.  As we pulled up, we said our goodbyes and they got off the van, walking up the long drive to the waiting women who worked at the orphanage.  

Drip, drip drip

Suddenly, I was overcome with the need to say goodbye again.  I jumped up and ran out of the van and up the drive, calling out their names.  My pastor’s wife was right on my heels.  Brother and sister turned and started to come back to us.  And there, in the driveway of an orphanage, we hugged.  The boy’s hug turned into a hold, as he held me for what seemed like a very long time.  Tears flowed and we separated.  They went back inside the orphanage and we returned to the van.  I sat in the back the following 90 minutes. 

I wept more than a few drops.

God had used the arms of an orphan in Ukraine to heal a broken-hearted mom.  The drip, drip, drip of the water had led to an outpouring of healing.  That one hug changed me forever.