Yuli

Every night, I have the same conversation with one of the girls here at the Manuelito Project.

“Your mom’s name is Yuli, right?”

“Yes,” I say, “My mom’s name is Julie.”

“Yuli came here before.”

“Yes, she did,” I respond. “She was here for a few days when I first came here. And she was here last October with my sister and some people from my church.”

“Yuli has white hair.”

“Yeah, my mom has really pretty white hair. It used to be dark brown, like yours, but then it turned white and silver.”

“Yuli has brown eyes.” She stares at me.

“Mm-hmm,” I nod. “She has gorgeous brown eyes.”

“Your eyes are the same as your mom’s eyes.” She still stares at me, expressionless.

“…Thank you.” I pause, unsure of how to proceed. “Your eyes are brown, too. They are beautiful.”

“Yuli is beautiful,” she reflects. “She has white hair and brown eyes and she is beautiful.” She pauses. Then, “Yuli is coming back.”

“Yes, Julie will be coming back. With my sister and my dad and me. Do you know when?”

“YULI COMES BACK IN JANUARY!”

My mom has stayed at the Manuelito Project for a grand total of a week and a half. And every night, one girl and I have this conversation.

I was not there to see how my mom acted during her week-long mission trip to Manuelito. But I did see how she acted in the few days she was here at the end of May.

The most compelling thing about her behavior here was how present she was. Whether she was laying on the bed next to me and letting me talk through all my fears about my upcoming time here, or sitting in front of the girls’ dorm covered in children and reading to them, she was actively building relationships here.

It is not easy to be fully present for a few days. It is not easy to be fully present for a few minutes. Being fully present involves taking time by yourself. I would venture to say that Jesus was the most fully present human that ever walked the earth, and we know that he frequently took time to pray and to be by himself.

So we need to be by ourselves sometimes.

But what about the rest of our time?

Being fully present is hard. It is paralyzingly hard sometimes. Obviously, though, it has benefits.

Yuli comes back in January. Yuli will be here for a week. The girl dances around our room singing my mom’s name.

If one woman can have that kind of an effect with just a few days of influence, what can you do?

What kind of an impact can you have on your children’s lives?

On your friends’ lives?

On strangers’ lives?

I want to propose something else, as well.

What would it mean if we waited for Jesus like this girl waits for Yuli?

What would it look like if we were so consumed by thoughts of Jesus that his impact on our lives bubbled into random conversations?

How would our days be different if the thought of going to church and being with Jesus filled us with such joy that we danced in anticipation?

I long for that enthusiasm.

Come, Lord Jesus.

And come back to Manuelito, Yuli. We miss you.