Two sisters lean back into booster seats as I steer down winding country roads to the doctor. Oldest sister’s eyes droop, and fever-warm limbs dangle from her 46-pound frame. Youngest sister scribbles on a glittery-purple notepad in the seat beside her.
“Mommy?” Oldest sister’s voice croaks and shakes, and I hear tears rising up. “If God really loves me, why am I so sick?”
I flash a glance into the rear view mirror to see red-rimmed eyes spilling with doubt.
I’m about to remind my firstborn how God holds us in His hands even when we hurt. I want to tell her again how He’s beside us and living inside of us, and how He’ll never leave us.
But I don’t have to.
Little sister has the answer. She tears a page from her notepad, and slips Big Sister a hand-drawn gift.
“It’s God’s hand, with a cross in the middle,” she whispers, and in that moment, I see how even a five-year-old can transcribe God’s Truths to a sister in need. They are a cord of three strands — two little sister-pilgrims braided to their Abba Father. (And this mama watched silently, as a witness to Kingdom Work in the back seat of a Chrysler van.)
Little Sister had written Big Sister’s name across the top of God’s hand.
“Thank you, Anna,” Lydia chokes out the words and pats her sister’s arms. “That was really nice.”
“See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.” — Isaiah 49:16
Should we wander
or find a soul red-rimmed with doubt
May we remember the One who knows our names
who sympathizes with weakness.
And should we forget,
as we’re prone to do,
may we have a Sister standing by to draw us
into His presence again.
“Draw me, Lord.”
Lydia has fully recovered from her illness, which required an overnight hospital stay this week.
She celebrates her 8th birthday on Monday, and as a family we celebrate the God of Psalm 139.
May you have a weekend drenched in grace, drawn in love.