Yesterday, I wrote a few words from a place of brokenness. I wanted to record my commitment to release expectations and renew hope in my heart. And, wouldn’t you know, God met me right then and there. After I closed my computer and got on with my day, He gently pulled my eyes upward.
Through one of the sweetest evenings Sylvie and I have shared together in a long time, my Abba reminded me that Hope is most assuredly alive. No matter how many times I have tried to bury it, Hope will always remain. My declaration to search for it, to unveil the light in every dark place, simply opened my eyes to see it once again.
My girl hugged me tightly last night, completely unprompted, and said, “I love you, mommy!” as we snuggled together and read our bedtime story. It was a small, quiet, far-from-flashy, moment. A simple treasure for my heart, tucked away, a reminder of His mercy, His healing hand, His redeeming nature.
Then, for the fourth time in the past week and a half, the boys invited Sylvie to sleep on the mattress they made for her on the floor in their room. This, my friends, is monumental. They invited her into their space; willingly, lovingly.
My tender-hearted boys have a bond stronger than words could ever describe and their worlds were absolutely wrecked when Sylvie came home. They were only four and they had just become big brothers to baby Charlotte eight weeks earlier. They were still adjusting to their new roles, when, with only 48 hours notice, their toddler sister arrived on a plane and walked into our home, disrupting everything and everyone with her terrified, unpredictable behavior. Our home went from a place of security and love to one of chaos. For months, we felt like we were walking in a mine field, never knowing which step would inadvertently set off a land mine buried in the sand.
Ever so slowly, healing has occurred in all of our hearts. We saw so much healing and bonding occur during our time in South Africa for the boys and Sylvie. Oh, how that trip was worth taking, if only for the deep bond the three of our kids now share. There is genuine love and affection where I once questioned if it could ever be so.
And, that my friends, is Mercy.
So, as Lent begins tomorrow, I’m going to keep on releasing my expectations and my frustrations and my disappointments. I’m going to keep on digging up Hope and focusing on where the light shines, no matter how dimly. I’ll keep on seeking out that light and exposing it. That little light will disperse and keep on spreading and spreading until all of our dark corners are lit up with bright, beautiful, shining light.