And

Brooklyn is 8. She is sweet and shy and quiet, but very bubbly once she decides you're ok to be around. She and her brother Sam are 2 of my very favorite kids in the whole world. Which is actually saying a lot because we know A LOT of kids. Right now she is going through things most adults could not handle, in a strange country with a strange language, with her amazing but completely exhausted Dad by her side and her mother 2 countries away. She has had IVs, transfusions, reactions, complications and more complications. People all over the world are praying for her and her family right now, and I know it is helping. They've seen miracles already in her care and their ability to get what she needs. Soon she will move to another hospital in yet another country, this one with wonderful care and even better her Mother and brother will join her there. She will even get to see our Pastor, who will arrive before her and prepare some things for the family's comfort. He's a deep well of love and concern and hard work all at once and I'm so glad we can send him.

And yet she is still so close to dying. Every little procedure that doesn't go smoothly; each hour she stays anemic or dehydrated or undernourished or her body is just overwhelmed. We are still begging the Great Physician to work miracle after miracle until it almost feels greedy. And because He loves us so fervently and purely, I trust and believe He will continue healing her. And yet I'm scared He may not. And frustrated to know she suffers so much, and her parents whom I love and admire suffer too. And I'm angry too, because why in the world would God call them so clearly to move to this place to do this work that so desperately needs doing, only to allow this horrible stage of their journey? Why? WHY? I don't understand it. I don't like it. I don't want to have keep waiting and weeping and waiting some more. I don't.

And then it hits me. I'm reminded and it brings comfort, albeit twisted backhand comfort. This is a broken, hurting world. And sweet Brooklyn and her family are just as subject to that brokenness and hurt as the rest of us. And none of it surprises God; he knows the hairs on her head and the freckles on her precious nose and the sparkle in her eye much better than we do. He knows what she needs and what her Daddy and her Mom need and what her tender-hearted brother needs too. HE knows. He has a plan and by His grace we'll see that plan unfold in ways none of us could imagine. So I breathe, and remind myself to be grateful for keeping her safe thus far instead of bitter she's on the journey at all. And I pray and join my friends in prayers and fasts and updates and more prayers all day and night. I think I have never in my life prayed this much for anyone, even myself. And I will not stop. Not until we hear she is healed, hydrated, happy and headed home. And just this once, I will lay my worries down at the foot of the cross with every prayer, with every breath and every step.

And it will all be enough for today. And tomorrow we'll do it again, because we love her so. And we know HE loves her so too.