[splashes.of.color]

re-post from February 2010

In all the battles of life there are moments when God suddenly appears with a splash of color, the arrival of fresh troups, and the cry of victory.

One of my “mentors” in the faith has been Amy Carmichael. She was my hero. The woman I wanted my life to resemble. God has used her and her writings over and over in my life.

I ended up living and working among the “shawlies” of my town because of her. (To read the story go here.)

My journals are filled with quotes from her.

“It is a safe thing to trust Him

to fulfill the desires which He creates.” 

“I wish thy way.
And when in me myself should rise,
and long for something otherwise,
Then Lord, take sword and spear
And slay.” 

“Can we follow the Savior far, who have no wound or scar?”

And for all my life, I had dreamed of someday being called “Amma” (Mother) by a child who was not my own, as she was by the hundreds she cared for in India. Not just that but a child who was empty and lost but found when I was able to speak the name of Jesus into their lives.

Light in darkness.

When I got married, I knew without a doubt that God had led me. I had been busy with mission work and had told God that if it was his desire for me to marry then he needed to drop a husband in my lap. Instead he gave me a prophetic dream. One that he later fulfilled through a man that I had apparently met several times but never remembered. (He says that I was elusive. I say that God was leading me. He laughs and agrees. Then we both thank God for his divine intervention!)

I thought for a long time that in God giving me marriage, I would be giving up other dreams.

Then it happened. Not in Haiti where my husband and I lived for most of our second year of marriage. Not with the kids that I used to work with. Instead with a boy that follows my husband around like a puppy dog. One who thinks that my husband is great. A fourteen year old boy who breaks things, is extra hyper, wouldn’t look me in the eye for the first fifty times I saw him… this boy who talks trash but begs to be loved… this boy who calls me “Ma”. He was joking when he said it. I joked with him. And the name stuck. And I cried myself to sleep.

“You can trust him to fulfill the desire which he creates.” Amy said.

Splashes of color. Glimpses of Jesus in every day life.

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Last night I saw my boy again. He stomped into my house, drank coffee and sold me way too many boxes of FFA fruit. And I was reminded of this entry. And of God’s amazing, priceless grace. That me, the barren woman, should have a boy who yells, “Bye, Ma!” when he leaves my house. Grace. Grace. Miles of grace.