I know that I’m supposed to say “make lemonade.” But sometimes I feel like throwing the lemons back. And I used to have a pretty good arm. You can ask my dad. I could throw that speed ball by you, make you look like a fool…
Spring Break usually finds me in the Dominican Republic. Not this year. I had resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to miss this year’s trip when Brooks called with a glimmer of hope. There was a possibility that he and I were going to scoot down on our own, make our way out to the Rose of Sharon Orphanage, see the kids that we love so dearly, and meet with some folks to talk about planting a church in another part of the island. But things haven’t developed on this end like we anticipated, so we pulled the plug on the possibility of the trip today.
I’m a little bummed, but let’s be realistic; if that’s as bad as my week gets, I’m doing pretty well. I had hoped to be spending my week working with barbed wire and concrete, playing guitar and worshiping in Spanish, and holding lots of little hands. That’s not going to happen. Instead I’ve spent the week playing with my kids, worshiping in English, and not getting my flesh ripped up by barbed wire and concrete.
Still, I wish that I was with my friends in the DR…
I’ll have to wait until June!
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