I met her my first week as a youth pastor. She was 16 years old. She had a baby a month later. Our youth group embraced her and loved her through all those first days, weeks, months and years. Then – as often happens when kids graduate from high school – we didn’t keep in as good a touch as we all wanted to. Many, including me, don’t live in that city anymore.
I saw her a year and a half ago when someone told me they found a cantaloupe-sized tumor in her abdomen. She got a bit better, then worse, then better.
Today the news came first in an email. Then a phone call. Mandy has less than a month to live. And she’s asked to see me. I’m honored. And I’m heartbroken. I haven’t cried in a long time. I cried today.
I know most of you don’t know Mandy. But many of you know the God who created her, and loves her, and looks forward to seeing her soon. Please talk to Him about her. If He wants to miraculously heal her – I’d be thrilled. If He wants to take her home, how can I fault Him for that. She’s His. She’s not ours. She’s His. She’s His. She’s His.
What a hard journey this is sometimes…
