I'm trying to remember what I used to do in my spare time when I was 12.

I'm sure I read some books.
Procrastinated on chores.
Probably watched way too much TV.

But one thing I'm sure I never did when I was 12 was try to learn a new language.
By myself.

But that's what I've found a certain 12 year old (who happens to live in this house) doing lately.
At night, after her compadres have gone off to bed...
Or in the afternoon when she has some down time...
I'll come around the corner to find her hunkered down with her Chinese textbook, her whiteboard, and her insatiable desire to learn Mandarin.

A desire given by Him.
To learn a language not her own.
Because a love has been formed for a culture and a people very different from hers.

It started with her love for her sisters.
And the many children still waiting for a home.
But it has since grown into something much, much more.

And she wants to go back.
Someday.
In some capacity.
And I have every reason to believe that she will.

But for now she studies on her own.
With a little help from a textbook.
And our resident expert.

 And I watch and I wait...

 

for this beautiful seed that has been planted to come to full bloom.