Heartache.

My heart aches for East Asia tonight.

For all the hands that touched this coin before mine.

And for all the hands that touched it after.

For the farmers.

For the people in the marketplace.

For the watermelon lady, for La La, and for all the people in the alleyway.

For the people who sit on the street corners selling their fruit.

For the person who wrote this prayer, this wish.

For the people whose wishes are tied all around this one.

For all the people who put their faith in wooden and golden statues.

For the lost, and broken.

For the hurting and hungry, the thirsty and seeking.

My heart aches.

And I can only imagine

that this heaviness in my chest

is simply a fraction

of the ache, the grieving, that the Lord feels

for the people He created

so beautifully, intentionally,

delicately, sweetly

who wander aimlessly through life

ignoring Him

denying Him

hating Him

& I pray

this aching in my chest

never leaves.