Maci. Ryan. Bentley. Diane.
One fell from a third story balcony.
One has a (dang-blasted) tumor around his spinal cord.
Two are undergoing chemo to fight Non-hodgkins Lymphoma.
They are wearing braces. Using wheelchairs. Limping and in pain.
They are working hard and monitoring everything.
They are losing their hair. Throwing up. Running fevers and very, very tired.
Their people are worn out too.
Nathan. Aleasha. Madi. Jessica. Jones. India. RayeAnne. Larry.
(Together with amazing grandparents, superior aunts and uncles, incredible children and grandchildren.)
They are dispensing meds and driving to the doctor. They are holding hands and crying tears.
They are missing sleep and missing home. They are cheering on and hoping.
They are discussing death and realizing the imminence.
They are comforting.
And they are all testifying.
Through blogs and emails and Facebook updates. Through hugs and prayers and blessed face-to-face contact. Through perseverance and authenticity.
Through their love for each other.
They are proclaiming Hope.
We can hear such messages in our faith communities each and every week. We can read them in Scripture. We can memorize, study and even believe.
But this testimony shouts loud and convicts deep. It’s VISIBLE.
From defeat. And struggle. And burden. And drought.
Our family speaks these precious names each and every night. In prayer. With deep love and esteem.
With renewed faith.
Because we are Seeing Him.
In their words. In their courage. In their weakened state.
Such vivid contrast that brings clearer focus. Our brokenness. His strength.
We see Him. Standing right there among these. Hurting as they hurt. Engaging them in the midst of frustrations. Handling the pleading prayers. Enabling. Sustaining.
He is there.
Just like He promised He would be.
We see this. We show it to our children. We proclaim their testimony further.
From the hard places.