In my mother’s laundry room hangs an apron. The apron is neatly sprinkled with artwork of myself and the peers of my kindergarten class. I haven’t looked at this apron in years. I started to study the last names, Patel, Gomez, DeLeon, the list goes on. I remembered the small faces that belonged to these names. You see I was undeniably the minority in the little class. At first glance this conglomeration of nations that filled my class was the result of the Dallas school district
enforcing busing, an attempt to integrate. But my mind started to wonder. Perhaps my love for other cultures and nations began in that small room nearly 20 years ago. Hispanic last names are the most common on the apron. Is it
simply coincidence that Latin America is one of my favorite places on earth? Or did the Lord begin something in that little
girl so long ago? I am finding more and more that Lord is always at work. I am asking Him to make His movements apparent to my sometimes blind eyes. I want to recognize the places that He has been. I want to see the weaving of His hand through this tapestry of my life.