oh glorious. the rain has come, after two days scorching every living thing...finally a bit of reprieve. i love sitting on our veranda watching humanity emerge to the roofs and balconies to drink in a breath of fresh air, washing off layers of city grime. for a moment we're all in unity crying out sighs of deep relief from the oppression of the city's heat...as you can tell, i'm pretty excited about the rain tonight.

i've been unable to steal away a moment's rest to sit and write...or more adequately, i've refused to sit and reflect and see what pours out in these pages. paramount quantities of writer's block have left these pages empty and quiet. most days there's so much to fill my mind, so much to break my heart, so much to process and share but the daunting task of painting even a window's worth of understanding proves too much to handle, so i watch the Office and go to bed instead.

its has been a difficult few months. sadness has followed me through each day, as i've carried the scarring stories of my friends in the red light area. i've wondered at the placement of hope, and where goodness can be brought and found. i've wondered at where my own identity should be grounded, and how to hold back the tendancy to be found in what i do barring who it is i am in the body and blood of Jesus. and i'm rediscovering, practically daily, what the song of lament really means. and the power of hoping in a new creation, and the strength that floods in moments of sincere silence.

i'm thrilled to be going home in two weeks...to the Waterman farm and strawberries and steak. and a chance to find restoration and being...and that coupled with the symphony of rain outside my window is enough to make me jump for joy even when the heat index climbs above 120 in the course of an afternoon.