Kentucky, pt. 1

I haven’t washed my hair since we got back from Kentucky. Beyond simply having hair that doesn’t need washed everyday, I think I haven’t because a small part of me doesn’t want to wash Kentucky away from me entirely. I don’t want my experiences there to be physically washed away from me. The faces and stories linger, more fragrant than the moist stench of Downtown Inn and Suites.

I carry Cody (a 7 year old girl with huge milk chocolate eyes) and Jacob (her brother, 10, who repeatedly told me how pretty I was) with me. I carry my prayers for them like infants because Cody and Jacob are so in need of love and gentleness.

I have never smelled as bad as I did the last day we left their house. The filth of their home, coupled with mildew, cigarette smoke, and urine assailed me each time I crossed their threshold. Sweat trickled down the small of my back as we assembled a new bed for Jacob and I made his bed with new, clean sheets. The three of us later sat on Jacob’s new bed as I asked them if they knew why I was there. Cody looked at me, her sparkling eyes straight into mine. “You really love me,” she said simply. I explained to her that she was exactly right and that even greater than my love was Jesus’ love for her.

We returned to their house once more, later that evening to bring the kids some final special treats. I had promised we would return. As we pulled into their yard, Cody and Jacob flew out of their house. “You didn’t lie! You didn’t lie!” Cody bellowed.

I wondered, as I choked back tears, who had lied to her in the past. I wonder and pray if we did enough. I have hope for those children. I hope more than anything that they will know how much I didn’t lie to them.