I’m standing on the eastern edge of Tanzania facing the wide expanse of Indian Ocean. A warm breeze brushes past me, moving lightly through the perfectly unkempt coastal flora.
In this early morning, my mind is on the journey behind, and the one that lies quietly ahead. The white sand before me is unmarked, washed smooth by the night’s tide.
The year also lies before me, open and unstepped upon.
I don’t yet know what tracks I’ll make, what waves will crash, crush or carry me in the yet-to-be-lived days. But I know this: I have not arrived here alone, nor will I proceed by myself.
Last month, my granddaughter came to us through a traumatic birth that almost took her life. Her arrival, which was nearly her departure, and subsequent nine days in neonatal intensive care, created one of the fiercest storms my family has weathered. We felt stripped and pounded by the sheer terror of watching her tiny self struggling to come back from the brink.
And against all odds, she did.
Yet deeper and bigger, broader and higher than that storm was the Love that held and carried us through. And I know that same Love would still be holding us even if our little one had not survived.
As I look into the new year, I’m uncertain of how it will unfold, yet very certain that Love will accompany me. Love has a name and a hand I can reach for.
The fullness of Love dwells in Jesus, and in this quiet place I turn my face toward Him again. I don’t walk forward alone.
Jesus, you are the One I need, want and choose.
Thank you for the promise of your presence.
This blog is part of our 2019 Focus on Jesus series.