Who is protecting who?

See, I thought that I used to be the one with the strength. 

When you were on the streets and fights used to break out,

I thought you fled to me for safety. 

When we would walk through Kampala holding hands, 

I thought you were hiding your bare feet, dirty clothes, and chagrin under the protection of my white skin. 

Wherever we would go and people gawk and stare and talk and talk, 

The white woman and the street child both somehow exiled from ‘normal’ society, 

I thought by teaching you to ignore them that you would see that God loves us equally. 

I went through a crash-course on being a mom, 

We got teenagers who had seen way more hate and fire and darkness than I had ever seen 

And God gave us sons who learned how to trust, and you learned how to dream. 

Now you’ve grown! You’re big and you’re tall and you are strong, 

And we look kind of awkward as a son and a mom, 

And you walk me home at nights, my sons and my shield,

And I realize that the protected one has always been me.

The shield that you are, you always have been,

Standing next to me and declaring I’m yours,

Protecting me from street fights and misguided words,  

As I walk down the crowded roads that I barely know, 

You held my hand and showed me your home, 

And as the people talked, you hid their words from me, 

Not wanting me to believe that I was anything but a blessing to you and this city. 

You taught me how to light that dang charcoal stove, 

And to cook and to wash and to mop and to speak, 

And that sitting on the front porch talking together every night, 

Was so much more fun than I could ever have watching t.v., 

You gave and I gave and we gave some more, 

And in the purest of loves we now can both see,

That we protected each other from lives of normalcy. 

God has given me beautiful sons. We’ve walked through many, many challenges and joys together. We may not look like a mom and a son, especially as our age gap looks like it is quickly closing. We have pushed each other to breaking points, we have refined each other through fire, and we have spent an uncountable amount of nights rolling with laughter. I say it’s been a crash course, because in three and a half years I have “gotten children” ( and not in a normal way, mind you), poured into them with the beautiful community that God has continuously placed around us, and now as the first four of them have reached eighteen, they have left the nest ! They are now in the Joshua Home, a home teaching them independence, leadership, and discipleship. They are thriving. They are becoming men that I am simply proud to know. Men that will never settle for anything less than the dreams God has put in their hearts, and men who have encouraged me to do the same.