June 15, 2014
Dear Ones,
Did Hannah sleep that last night? Did she hover over the sleeping form, was his
bedtime tuck in just a little longer, his good night story the longest one she
could think of, did she encourage him to pray just a little longer, telling God
thank you for each bug he saw, for what he ate that day, for each family member
on the long list, and for the past days of travel? Did she cringe just a bit when he said amen,
and wish that his little arms would stay tangled around her neck in a good
night hug for just a moment longer, did unbidden tears slip down her cheeks as
she kissed his sleepy face and watched his little eye lids flutter and finally
close in sleep? What thoughts were
racing through her head, what emotions boiling up and spilling over from her heart? Did she think back to the last time she was
here in Jerusalem, her pleading with God and her promises? Was there a moment when she wavered in her
resolve to do what she knew God was calling her to do when she wanted to scoop
up the sleeping child near her and just run?
In the wee hours of the morning did she pull him in closer to her and
wish that the dawn would not come but in the very same instant pray that God
would give her strength to do the best thing, the right thing, and that somehow
the Creator of her heart would stop her hearts bleeding from the wound that was
about to be inflicted?
Once again this was the line of questions
streaming through my mind as I sat on the floor little ones pulled close,
singing their favorite songs, coloring castle pictures one last time, answering
questions, wiping runny noses, tickling and rocking, here we were once again
doing “lasts.” Never again would I sit
with this group of little ones because in the early light of a new day some
would leave, new families awaited them, forever families who were longing for,
and praying for them, mommies and daddies who would love them and care for them
and train them up and fight for them. It
was a good thing, but right now as I watched eye lids begin to droop with sleep
and I tucked little bodies into cribs one last time kissing foreheads and
whispering prayers over them. My heart
begins to hurt once again with a familiar ache.
Old wounds seem fresh, the scars mark where some have healed but new
places are beginning to bleed with fresh injury. I plead with God to teach me to have a heart
like Hannah who begged God for a son and promised to give him back, a heart
that aches with the knowledge that God will use this little boy for His glory but
it will not be without sacrifice…Samuel never belonged to Hannah just as these
children never belong to me but it does not make my heart hurt any less. I pray that the Great Physician will put
pressure on the bleeding places to stem the flow and help the healing to
begin. There is a part of me that asks
Him to make the pain less next time, and He gently reminds me in that same moment
that great love will bring great pain and that I never want to love less because
it would not be worth the even greater loss I would feel.
In the gray early hours of the morning I slip
back down to the nursery before the commotion of the day, and the crowds gather
and we say goodbye quietly just me and them as it has been on so many days
before, whispers, hugs, last moments… Snuggled close one last sighed, “Ma Li Ya,
wo ai ni.”
Then Hannah prayed and said,
“My horn is exalted in the Lord,
My mouth speaks boldly against my enemies,
Because I rejoice in Your Salvation.
There is no one holy like the
Lord,
Indeed, there is no one besides You,
Nor is there any rock like our
God.”
1 Samuel 2:1-2
Grace
Alone,
Mariah
