I'm looking over some stones this morning

"Can a woman forget her nursing child and have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, but I will not forget you. Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; your walls are continually before Me." Isaiah 49:15-16

This is what it means
To be held
How it feels
When the sacred
Is torn from your life
And you survive.
This is what it is
To be loved
And to know
That the promise was
When everything failed
We'd be held.
--"Held" Natalie Grant

It is a rare occasion when words fail me. I love words, consider them one of God's great gifts to me, am frustrated when I can't recall the English word for something I normally say in Russian or can't recall the Russian word for something I usually say in English. Rarely do I come upon a situation in which I can't find the words to express how I feel. This morning is one of those occasions.

Early this morning, the vonage phone rang. I think it's universal that when the phone rings in the night, it's not good news. Marc ran to get it, whispering, "It's Tara, and something is really wrong," as he handed it to me. If you are a regular reader of this blog, you'll remember that Tara is my closest friend, soulmate, and partner in crime. Tara and her husband, Matt, live with their two children in Brazil. My first thought was that something was wrong with the baby Tara is expecting in January. But through her tears, she assured me that her family was well, but that tragedy had struck. Elaine, her mentor since she arrived in Brazil, had gotten sick while on vacation. She went to the doctor on Friday, was diagnosed with pneumonia, went home, went back to the doctor on Monday, was hospitalized with a massive bacterial infection, placed in ICU, and not expected to live through the night. One by one, her organs were failing. Indeed, about twenty minutes after we hung up, Tara called back to relay the news that Elaine had died. Of course, I longed for nothing more than just to be in Brazil, sitting on Tara's bed, holding her hand. And of course, I am not. Instead, I did my best to comfort my precious friend from thousands of miles and seven time zones away. But what is there to say, really, when nothing makes sense? When God's plan seems so unreasonable, how do we run to Him? Elaine has five children. Her youngest is nine years old. Why is this the plan? What do you do with a God who is so big that He is incomprehensible?

The only answer I can come up with--and remember that education is my particular area of expertise, not theology--is that it is precisely for times like these that we look back on our stones of remembrance, when we recall, one by one, the ways in which God has been ever-faithful as He has led us to this place. On Sunday, one of the things I said in Bible study was that I do not think God has helped me--I know He has. I look again and again at those times in my life where I not only survived in difficult circumstances but flourished, and I know that He has held me in His right hand, where my name is engraved, and brought me through. We have given up everything to come to this place and serve Him, not out of some hope of great reward, but simply because in the face of all He has done for us, simple obedience seems the least we can do for Him. I don't know why God called us to a difficult life. I don't know why He gave me Tara but called us to two totally separated parts of the world. I don't know why He called Elaine home when it seems so unreasonable. But I can rest--and find comfort--in this: He knows. He knows, and He is faithful, and He loves me far more than I am even capable of comprehending. I would love to be able to say that faithful service to God leads to a life of luxury and ease. So far, that has not been my experience. But I will proclaim this to my dying day: He is faithful, He is trustworthy, and He is worthy of any sacrifice I make. And somehow, even through tragedy and heartache, He will be glorified.

It is a busy day here in Moscow. We believe we will be leaving for Ukraine tomorrow night, so there is much, much, much to be done. We also have to swap some kids around at some point today--Hannah slept over with a friend, and their son slept over here with John-John. (By the way--good friends for my kids--doesn't that giant of loneliness look smaller and smaller and smaller? That guy just might be on his way out the door.) Wherever you are in the world, I pray that you are trusting in a mighty, mighty God no matter what circumstance you find yourself in today. And if, by chance, you are so blessed that God has given you a best friend, someone who knows you inside and out and loves you anyway, someone who prays for you daily, who tells you when you're being difficult, who makes you laugh until you cry...and if you can look that person in the face today...oh, my friends, spend some time laughing and hugging that person, because you are mighty, mighty blessed. Blessings to you and yours!

His,
Kellye