And Ever

In eight weeks, I’ve gotten to know Dani pretty well. He’s two years old. He loves balls and horses and coloring. He’s got a killer sweet tooth and an even worse temper. And while he likes to do activities and crafts, he’s also content to just sit and be held.


Yesterday, Dani was in a particularly cuddly mood. He crawled onto my lap, curled into a ball, and shut his eyes, clearly intending to spend at least a few minutes resting in my arms. I looked down at him and realized I’d reached the part of my adventure where things would start to get really hard. Though I would be glad to leave the traffic and smog in just five days, saying bye to these kids that call me “Si Si,” “Joshi,” and even “Ma” was not going to be fun.

I don’t know how God can handle it. I don’t know how He can create people, knitting them together in their mother’s womb, all the while knowing that they will have the option to reject Him and be separated from Him for eternity.

I look at Dani, whom I’ve only known for TWO MONTHS, and I get a glimpse of God’s heart. I’ve poured a lot of love into Dani in eight weeks, even though he might never remember it or know it. Yet I look at him and know that, after Thursday, I will NEVER see him again. Ever. And with that thought, which I can’t even think of a way to describe to you, I am amazed that God was willing to experience that feeling to the billionth power for the sake of the few that would love Him back. The few that would choose to be with Him forever. And ever.