Go, my children, with my blessing, at peace and pure
Here you learned how much I love you, what I can cure
Here you learned my dear Son’s story
Here you touched him, saw His glory
Go my children with my blessing, at peace and pure
It hasn’t all been “here,” in Kentucky, at Our Savior. As we sing, the meeting places between my God and my Aggie crowd my vision.
Aggie,
As we celebrate God’s faithfulness to you on this your confirmation day, He brings to mind His faithfulness from the beginning; from before you were old enough to create memories. Remember His faithfulness Aggie, and what you don’t remember yourself, receive through my memories and treasure them as your own.
I remember when God called Daddy to Iraq with the army. With Lorraine not yet a year old, I remember quaking with fear, and saying to your Daddy, “Maybe, since you’re going to war and all, we should… you know… try NOT to have another baby just now?” And he looked at me as if I were the crazy one and said, “Has anything REALLY changed? Any of us could die at any time. Why does a deployment make that any different?” And that risk-taking look in his eye won me over, not for the first or the last time. After a month of agony came a tearful airport goodbye; two weeks later, two pink lines, too much for me to handle. And not for the first or the last time, I found myself on my knees praying for God’s help because of you. And God was faithful.
Remember how God watched over your daddy far away in the violent deserts of Iraq, and your mama in her fear, and your sister as a wiggly toddler, and you- you grew silently and perfectly as I carried you. And God sent Nana to wait with me, to walk miles and miles while we waited for daddy, waited for labor, waited to meet you after weeks of false contractions. And remember how God brought you into this world safely, with the help of Nana and a doula named Annalise and Amy Zoll my midwife; and remember how daddy had to hear about it all after the fact, by phone. Our hearts broke even as they rejoiced. And God remembered you.
Remember, Aggie, how you were sustained in those early days, and Daddy finally got to meet you! You were taken with joy to St. Pauls, where in the waters of your baptism Jesus called you by name and promised to be with you ALWAYS. You first heard a sermon in Hilsdale, Michigan, and it wasn’t even your dad preaching in those days. Through Pastor Johnson and Pastor Adams, our souls were nourished. As you learned to walk and talk and grow in southern Michigan, and Daddy commuted to seminary, you sang “Jesus loves me” in the nursery at St. Paul’s. You faced the world with wide-eyed wonder and laughing eyes. And God remembered you, Aggie.
Remember when God called us to Indiana? You were three when we moved. And as we drove south, the VW Beetle caught fire on the expressway. Dad pulled over and took you out quickly; we sat roadside and watched as it burned (along with your plastic Disney princesses in the front passenger seat). You cared very little about this brush with death- playing in the grass with your blanket and your brother while “Clickety Clack Boom” burned to a crisp in the background. You and your blankie just crammed into the back of the SUV between your siblings, and we completed our journey to Columbus while you chattered away with a light heart. And God cared for you.
Do you remember the blessings God had for us in Indiana? I cannot begin to number them. Remember: The fields and the corn and the pond; the playground and the lovely little church and the people. Your daddy in the pulpit, preaching; Mary Anne singing. You began to learn the catechism and Scriptures in this place: here you repeated the creeds and the songs of the saints for seven years. And God remembered you.
God remembered you, even as He allowed the Great Suffering to come upon us, the year you were sick. Seizures cast a shadow over our lives for a season; with them, fear and questions and constant anxiety- we didn’t know it would just be for a season- we didn’t know you would be restored to health the next summer. But God was faithful. I remember how God taught me some of the toughest mommy lessons that year- that I am truly powerless over anything that matters; that my children are not my own. I will never forget how He cared for you and for all of us through His people at White Creek (the meals, the babysitting, the sympathy and help of all kinds- each a drop of mercy from His hand as we waited for His ultimate healing.) After we suffered for a little while, God worked His miracle through the people at Cleveland Clinic. We remember His faithfulness, and we lean heavy on it, during every follow-up MRI. You are in His hands, Aggie, and God remembers you.
Do you remember leaving Indiana for the call to Michigan? Remember the grief, dear daughter, so that you can also remember God’s help and healing. Remember how, though God took away friends and places, He provided new friends and new places in Eastpointe. Remeber singing the Quempas Carol near the giant Christmas tree with your new friends, with Miss Kate. Remember when God upheld you in His word even as you tromped through the snows of Michigan. Remember reading books by the fireplace, and crushing your AR goals at St. Peter’s. Remember God’s faithfulness.
Remember Aggie, that God remembers you.
And now in Kentucky, where you are a young woman in bloom, God remembers. He planted you here, where the parks are beautiful, and you’re thriving in homeschool, where diligent morning study can be followed by luxurious afternoon naps. And here, we have arrived at this day, at our new church home, Our Savior, where you confess with your own heart, God is faithful to me.
Oh dear daughter, it is true.
Cling to Your Father as He upholds you, all of your days.
He who has promised is faithful.
“I shall lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8
When we started homeschool, I had this great image of us going on hikes with our nature notebooks, stopping to make careful observations, drawing, coloring, researching whatever little thing caught their interest.
