Remember little Andre? I met him the first week...a tiny unfamiliar form coming towards us that first week. Then, three weeks in Warm Springs later and I was back on the Yakama Rez once again walking in Adam's View, surveying the area and watching kids slip out to us between buildings and out of plastic pools.
I almost didn't recognize him. My family was there that week on a team. A little boy was playing with my dad. Vocal, excited, showing him treasures in the dirt. It was Andre. He was talking to Mom as they played with chalk, talking to Dad as they made tracks for little matchbox cars on the sidewalk. I couldn't see for a few moments because of the tears warping my vision.
Half an hour later I looked up and saw Dad bent over, tiny Andre on his back, reaching for a Frisbee on the ground, laughing. Laughing as if there was no reason to cry.
It's moments like those that heal the fissures in your heart. God scorches you until all is cracked and then he blows out the dust that has gathered and pours cool, clean water through, allowing Christ's soul to fill in the gaps. It's times like these. When stony silence melts to talking and communication turns to boisterous laughter even when everything around you seems hopeless.
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