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Dear God, thank you for giving Kitty such a good morning. Thank you that she’s been handling her food just fine even though yesterday’s schedule got a little mixed up. Thank you for the way she takes these morning naps so I can have a little quiet time with you.
On days like these, Susannah would stop and think about her mother, think about how hard it would have been to be newly widowed with a baby as fragile as Kitty and a toddler to take care of on top of everything else. Susannah wished her mom was still alive so she could thank her for all the sacrifices she’d made for their family.
Sacrifices. There was that word again.
God, this weekend was hard. I thought about Scott more than I should have. The church service didn’t help, either. Grandma Lucy’s words really got me confused. You tell us in Scripture that you carry things on to completion, that you don’t bring something to the point of delivery and then just let it miscarry, but what about the mission field? What about Scott?
I know I shouldn’t always be questioning you. I should just calm down and trust that you’ve got it all under control, but it’s hard to do. Mom’s the one I would normally talk through all these things with, which makes it even harder. Maybe I shouldn’t miss her as much as I do. Maybe her passing should just be a reminder to me to look forward to the day when we’re all reunited in your glorious kingdom, but that’s not so easy to do. I need your help.
Susannah stared at the open Bible in her lap. Several years ago, her mom had taught her a system for morning quiet times that she still used regularly. Giving thanks, confessing sins, then meditating on Scripture.
Today, Susannah was in Psalm 85:
“You, Lord, showed favor to your land; you restored the fortunes of Jacob. You forgave the iniquity of your people and covered all their sins. You set aside all your wrath and turned from your fierce anger.”
Lord, you’ve forgiven me for so many things. My lack of faith, my doubts that you really had my good in mind when you took Mom home. Thank you so much for dying for me, for taking the punishment for all my sins, even the ones I haven’t recognized yet.
“Restore us again, God our Savior, and put away your displeasure toward us. Will you be angry with us forever? Will you prolong your anger through all generations? Will you not revive us again, that your people may rejoice in you? Show us your unfailing love, Lord, and grant us your salvation.”
Restore. Susannah paused. Tried to think of a different way to describe it if she could.
Restore. God had taken so many things from her. Her mom. Her dreams of going on the mission field. Her relationship with Scott.
Restore. The word kept coming back to her. Was it possible?
God, only you know the future you have planned for me. Only you know if I’ll ever find my way to serve you outside of Orchard Grove. Only you know if I’ll ever meet someone else like Scott, someone with a passion for missions. I know this wasn’t the right time for those things, and I’m trying not to complain. I’m trying to give them up calmly and selflessly, but then you keep making it harder. You sent me to church to listen to Grandma Lucy talk about how you complete what you begin. You led me to the Psalm that talks about your perfect restoration when you yourself know that what I long for more than anything is for you to restore the joy I had when Mom was here and Scott and I were together and our plans were to serve you as full-time missionaries.
Right now, I don’t even know what it would look like for you to restore any of those things, but since you’ve put that word in my heart, I’m going to ask you one more time.
Restore my joy. It doesn’t matter to me how you do it. But come and restore my joy, and if it’s your will, I pray that you would at least fulfill my dream of one day serving you on foreign soil.