This morning I thought of how the Lord must have come to me the bright summer afternoon on which I learned, at nineteen years of age, that my
best soul friend who was now married and living in Canada and expecting her first child had died from a monoxide leak into their car which poisoned her while she napped as they drove to their mission site. I had gotten a call on a Sunday afternoon from an old friend from an old church to tell me about it. I flung myself across my mother's bed to cry out my heart. And the very sure knowledge flooded my soul, indeed the beginning of my strong faith in the Sovereignty of God: this is too tragic to be only an accident. God took her for His reasons and He is good.
The memory now is a comfort to remind me of how He has been with me through these many years. And though I don't always feel the fresh awareness of His presence now, may I realize that maybe it is so familiar to me that I don't feel anything. What would I feel if He were really not with me?! May I follow Him with my cross. May I believe that
He says always "Come". And may I answer just as often "come!".
