Wednesday, November 10, 2010

and I don’t want to forget these tears…

Old Sugar Mill and Florida Fall 074 I hug my husband tight and tears are streaming down my face—my head and heart full of pain.  The pain of a generation.

and I don’t want to forget these tears.

Early in the morning, a terrible hit and run, two brothers down in a ditch and bloodied.  One didn’t make it.  We knew the injuries were serious, but we all prayed fervently for life to be preserved…for the years of great promise and a beautiful young man growing in every good way.  But that was not to be—a life cut short.  Gone forever from this world.  A physical life lost—and many others dying or already dead in mind, spirit, soul.

and I don’t want to forget these tears.

I weep and pound the table for a generation that is coming…in darkness or in light they will come.  And how can they march into tomorrow’s light if none is shining today?  And who will bring the light?  I saw it in my years of teaching…a period a day teaching math.  The only one to raise one brave flicker of light and look in eyes and say I cared.  Disheveled hair and bloodshot eyes and broken homes and drugs near by and one tiny flicker of light.

and I don’t want to forget these tears.

I hear it as my hero, my husband, offers himself over school lunches…asking the questions no one asks. So many left to craft right and wrong with only the blind to lead.  Looking into eyes he asks if they have ever heard of Him who is Light.  He speaks His name…Jesus.  Flickers of light where darkness reigns.  And we pray hard that flickers will fan to flame.  And we believe that there yet remains hope while it is still light.

and I don’t want to forget these tears.

I plead to Heaven for those who will hear the cry of a generation.  For those who will share these tears.  Those who will have the courage to walk through open doors and who will look this generation in the eye and speak of light and truth. Flickering flames of love.  I plead for houses that hold lives of comfort to crumble.  For homes of truth to be born that will reach out and embrace the pain of a generation.

and I don’t want to forget these tears.

I pray for restless nights and hearts--my own included.  Those to see the orphans with no one to parent.  There are those far and poor and needy and their cries can reach and we can be Jesus to them.  We need to be Jesus to them.  But can we be Jesus to the generation at the school next door?  On our streets at night?  In the aisles of our stores?  Can those closest still fill our eyes with tears?  My tears. Your tears.

and I don’t want any of us to forget these tears.


If you are touched by this and would like to know how you can help, please follow this link and/or leave a comment.  You can pray.  You can give.  You can go.  I will direct you as best as I can.



  1. Mama Abby,

    Thank you for spurring us to remember. Thank you for your questions....

    "But can we be Jesus to the generation at the school next door? On our streets at night? In the aisles of our stores? Can those closest still fill our eyes with tears?"

    I ponder this now, with you.


  2. So clearly expressed, Abby. The same day that this tragedy occurred there in Florida, we had a similar one here in Omaha. A teacher (who helps with SV) at one of our Omaha schools was killed while crossing the street right near the school. One of our SV students witnessed the terrible accident. We are praying for all the students and teachers who were affected by this ... that their eyes and hearts will be turned to see the Light. Thanks for sharing your heart for students ...

  3. yes, my heart cries with you, Abby. once you've seen behind the grime and the harsh exterior your heart just breaks...

    I'm so thankful for your prayers and your family's work. Thank you for serving and loving and caring enough to feel the pain that others carry.

    Stay tender, dear sister.

    God bless.


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