He was born in an African village some 60 miles from the nearest town.
His floors were dirt and the sun was for power.
His water, unclean.
Only the strong survived and he was amongst them.
His heart was a mess and his life hung in his mothers arms.
He was destined to live his life somewhere else.
To leave his only sister, to fight the fight of survival.
His life lived out across an ocean some thousands of miles away.
I was destined to be his mom. Our lives intertwined like the branches
of a grape vine.
His little life so fragile and so dependent on me who came
all the way across the world to retrieve him and bring him to a little plot of land
in the middle of the country. A country farm for him to run and play and grow
and be loved.
Not all the same skin but it matters little now as his branches
mingle with ours.
Just a vine praying to bear fruit.
Allowing the Lord to so tangle our hearts that
you can't tell us apart.
Learning to love one another as brothers and mothers,
sons and fathers.
Choosing to put myself and our family on the front lines
and finding ourselves overcome with love.
Celebrating the week the Lord brought Joseph Turner
Celebrating that He used us.