protector

Sweet little Daifrie has a a radiant smile. She gets it from her mama, one of our dear friends in the Dominican Republic.Daifrie has always been the one to run uninhibited and jump into my arms. That radiant smile glowing. She knows what she wants, and she goes after it with every means possible...including pouting, if she thinks it might be to her advantage. She's smart. Brilliant.She has a sweet, tender heart and a fierce sense of justice. And I mean, fierce.This year I watched her literally physically defend her siblings...biological and adopted. Her tiny athletic frame tense, wielding a stick over her shoulder, ready to strike anyone daring to transgress. Her not the oldest, but that protective fire blazing in her eyes. Heart fluttering. Hands shaking. Jaw clenched. Resolved.The fight gurgling and bubbling never erupted fully, she swiveled on her heels and started the march home. Head high. No turning. I called her name to not leave, to comfort her...but she didn't turn. Wouldn't turn. Steady and stiff, she marched toward home.Running after her, when I caught up to her hot tears before contained in her eyes spilled out. Her shoulders dropped. Her march halted. She let me pick her up. Hold her tight. Safe. And she melted in my arms. No longer strong. Free to be weak.So I carried her to the safety and comfort of home. The little fierce warrior. Her tender heart wrought for the cause of justice. She held on as I prayed. Prayed that her tender heart would continue to care for what is right and good and true. That she would champion the Father's heart for those she loves...while trusting Him to be the One who will one day right every wrong and wipe away every tear. Her own. And the tears of those she loves.In that moment, I knew I was preaching the Gospel to myself. The glory coming that I too need to hold onto.You see, I too have physically defended those I love. And I would do it again right here, right now. Not because I love to fight. I hate it. And it exhausts me. Eyes blazing. Heart fluttering. Hands shaking. Jaw clenched. Resolved.When it's over, swiveling on my heels and marching home. Head high. Steady. Stiff. Can't show my weakness.But then comfort comes. The Comforter. Reminding me that one day, one day very soon, every wrong will be made right. Every innocent avenged. And I collapse. Free to be weak. Knowing that His judgment is best. Final. There are things I simply cannot stop. Cannot make right. But one, one day, He will.And after a bit of sitting by her home. Laying in my arms crying, crying a last little bit...head on my shoulder. She popped up. Smile radiant again. Held her hand out for me to get up to skip back out to the field with all the children. She let herself be comforted. Radiant and uninhibited again she shone.While we were in the Dominican, a few of the guys on the team gave us all animal names. It was funny and wonderful seeing their interpretations of each of our personalities. They named me the Garden Snake. They explained why... Because they are harmless to those who are supposed to be in their garden but protect their garden from those who are not supposed to be there. They protect it and help it to be more healthy. I cannot say that I ever wanted to be compared to a snake before, but this pleased me. A lot.I think there are a lot of us little garden snakes out there. Daifrie and I being two. Our protective sense of justice fierce. But our need to be free to be weak just as prominent.  Praying the Gospel over each other. Preaching it to ourselves. Let's let ourselves be comforted. And shine radiant, uninhibited.