There are so many promises.
A GAZILLION in God’s word and in my heart, Handwritten ones
from the One who wrote me.
This week has been one of those weeks where they dance in
the horizon, and you wonder if that really is an oasis of fulfillment in view, or
if it’s a mirage that taunts your scratching throat and your aching feet.
Breakthroughs and birth certificates are still just out of arms reach… but be assured
that I am reaching.
In some moments, I reach with open and faithful hands. And,
in others, I try to grab with clenched fists.
And in the midst of it all, a 10-year old blonde-haired,
blue-eyed girl showed up and helped me remember the power of remembering.
This is Lily. Photo by Charity - age 5 |
I was Lily’s nanny when she was 3 – 5 years old. We became
family through dress-up dance parties and cake-baking. (Some things never
change.)
When I left for Africa almost 4 years ago, Lily made a vow
that if I was still there when she turned 10 years old, she would come visit
me. She started selling lemonade as soon as she turned 9. And here she is today,
with her awesome mama, just a few months after her 10th birthday.
Photo from Lily Sells Lemonade |
When those blonde curls bounced onto base, with 10-year old
sized boots and a sense of fashion that did not involve princess dresses, I
realized how long ago it was that we lived like family together. It’s been 5
years since we made dinners and read bedtime stories. And everything is
different now.
But then we remembered.
With the help of a few old photos and homemade music videos
(that her mom just saw for the first time). Before the grand finale of ‘A Whole New World’, that double-digit
diva was leaning into me and we were giggling together, just like we used to.
Remembering what’s real
beyond circumstances, fashion statements and hemisphere changes is where
the promises are fulfilled. Where all the good stuff is.
Because the kids are going to grow up. And people will come
and go.
Nothing will ever stay the same. Except the Truth.
Lily will always have a place in my family.
And I will always have a place in His Family.
And I will remember to remember the parts that are true
instead of measuring the parts feel different.
This week, just two months after commemorating the most incredible Family celebration at Sifiso and Lizzy’s new home, we heard news of
disaster striking their family. Spirits were crushed, and hope went silent.
Until my leader, John, remembered to remember.
We loaded our team up and drove to that mountainside piece
of land that was once a fire-seized testimony of tragedy. It is now a chosen
and cared for place of promises fulfilled. It’s a home with a bed for every
child, space to sit together, and a front porch that boasts of the Truth of
Family.
We gathered there like we had gathered the first time God
was fulfilling promises in their family. After the first time disaster had
struck.
And we
remembered together the Truth that prevailed beyond today.
We put our same family hands on those same family shoulders,
and we remembered.
There’s something about remembering Him that breaks through
our circumstances and invites heaven to open up. When we remember what true,
where our hope comes from, He can’t help but remember how much He loves us.
“But he took note of their distress when he heard their
cry; for their sake he remembered his covenant and out of his great love he
relented.” Psalm 106:44-45
Same hands. Same shoulders. Different sizes and
circumstances.
Same Family. Same God.
He does not forget His promises. He does not forget His
Family.
I’m reaching to remember. And staying right here in His
holding hands.
“Remember the former things, those of long
ago;
I am God, and there is no other;
I am God and there is none like me.
I make known the end from the beginning,
from ancient times, what is still to come.
I say: My purpose will stand, and I will do
all that I please.”
Isaiah 46:9-10
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