its funny how it happened.
sounded cool a few months in advance, not so cool when the nerves hit the day of departure. jumped onto a bus in a sketchy part of town in the middle of the night. woke up in the brightest of bright places. glimpse of heaven, i guess.
He was there. always is, though i try to deny it. try to wish Him away. this go around i begged Him to join. (as if at my request he comes and goes.)
anyways, He came. and He put her in my arms. even when she wasn’t, it felt like she was. sometimes i still feel her with me. its the Spirit, though.
she is small. she is needy. she is naïve. she’s innocent, gentle, shy. she didn’t speak a word to me. our language was love. and see-sawing. and coloring books and silly bands and a dilapidated trampoline and tricycling around and around and around and around.
though she never responded with words, she spoke so much. she told me of His love for her, even here. in this place. with these clothes and this food and these caregivers. His love remains the same.
even there, with those people. when she was smaller and more fragile. with those characters and that smell. His love was there too. she told me that He loves even the people who left her to be taken here in the first place. He loves them.
she told me that stability doesn’t come from our circumstances. it doesn’t come in a family Christmas tradition or the same pb&j my mom made me every day for school or in having two married parents or in even having parents at all. it comes from Him.
she told me that i shouldn’t feel bad for her. i shouldn’t be sad that her life looks like it does. she told me to rejoice, because her Provider never fails.
mostly, she told me to look up. with Him, the best is yet to come.
“And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will Himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you.”
1 Peter 5:10