show me

It's Wednesday, and it feels like a week from next Thursday. The wards are full; every bed is occupied and A Ward is populated almost solely with children, which means the body count is nearing its maximum again. I've been running from the moment I wake up until the well after the end of each shift with hardly time to grab a bite to eat. (It's true; one of the new nurses, who's never known me when things are slow, saw me making a grilled cheese today and started laughing. But I thought you just lived on love and air!)

I know I wrote about O'Brien and Maomai yesterday, but truth be told, there hasn't really been much time to process everything. It feels like one thing after another since this outreach has started, and I just haven't found the space to clear my head and think it all through. This past week, though, I heard a song for the first time that speaks more deeply into my heart right now than anything else has.

My best friend forever from childhood, Audrey Assad, just finished recording her first full-length album. A preview of three songs will be on iTunes May 11th, the full album will come out July 13th, and I'm telling you this in detail because you're going to want to go download it the minute it's available. She sent a sneak preview to me here on the ship, and I've been playing it nonstop since it arrived. I think it's a testament to her music when I tell you that the second Aissa hears Audrey's voice, she stops screaming, runs to my desk, and starts to dance.

At any rate, one of the songs is called Show Me, and the first time I heard it I sat at my desk with tears just running down my face because it was exactly what I needed to hear.

Because sometimes we win. Sometimes there are miracles and babies are snatched back from the very edge of death. Sometimes I have victory in my shining eyes. Sometimes I'm the star set before the morning.

But sometimes those babies go back to Jesus, and I need to just cry. To simply be and know that there's a way forward, even though the path before me is anything but clear. It's like, for the first time, I feel like I have permission to fall apart. And, strangely enough, I find that I don't need to. Because I know that God will stay closer to me than my own ragged breath catching in my chest.

It's like I'm getting a glimpse of this deeper beauty, grasping at the edge of a truth as deep as time. It doesn't matter if tragedy finds me steady and unmoving or if it knocks me flat on my back; it won't change anything about Him. I'm wrestling with angels and at the same time knowing that the fight has already been won and I can just rest. Knowing that whichever path I choose, He'll be right there.

And He won't love me any less if I cry.

Show Me (Audrey Assad)

You could plant me like a tree beside a river.
You could tangle me in soil and let my roots run wild,
And I would blossom like a flower in the desert.
But for now, just let me cry.

You could raise me like a banner in the battle,
Put victory like fire behind my shining eyes,
And I would drift like fallen snow over the embers.
But for now just let me lie.

Bind up these broken bones.
Mercy, bend and breathe me back to life,
But not before You show me how to die.

Set me like a star before the morning,
Like a song that steals the darkness from a world asleep,
And I'll illuminate the path you've laid before me.
But for now just let me be.

Bind up these broken bones.
Mercy, bend and breathe me back to life,
But not before You show me how to die.
No, not before You show me how to die.

So let me go like a leaf upon the water.
Let me brave the wild currents flowing to the sea,
And I will disappear into a deeper beauty.
But for now, just stay with me.

God, for now, just stay with me.

(Photos by d'art photographie and Christina Lafferty Photography.)