After my sweet girl died, I was reading a book one night that had this quot in it, and I fell in love. I have always loved Corrie Ten Boom and admired her strength and perseverance for the Lord’s work. But as I read this, I could really visualize this 1o-year- old girl talking to her Father.
Corrie Ten Boom, The Hiding Place:
“Father, what is sexsin?” He turned to look at me, as he always did when answering a question, but to my surprise, he said nothing. At last he stood up, lifted his traveling case from the rack over our heads, and set it on the floor. “Will you carry it off the train, Corrie?” he said. “It’s too heavy,” I said. “Yes,” he said. “And it would be a pretty poor father who would ask his little girl to carry such a load. It’s the same way, Corrie, with knowledge. Some knowledge is too heavy for children. When you are older and stronger, you can bear it. For now you must trust me to carry it for you.” And I was satisfied. More than satisfied – wonderfully at peace. There were answers to this and all my hard questions. For now I was content to leave them in my father’s keeping.
My baby had just died. We hadn’t even buried her yet, and I was reading these words. Wise words. True words. Corrie said, “I was satisfied…at peace. There were answers to this and all my hard questions. For now I was content to leave them in my father’s keeping.”
Here I lay soaking in a hot bubble bath, reading these words. With tears streaming down my cheeks and my arms resting on my big, no longer pregnant belly, I knew her words to be true. I was planning a celebration service, a funeral for the daughter I had prayed for, yet I knew a peace like I’ve never known before. Such peace can only come from my Creator. My Savior. I was content to leave my questions in my Father’s keeping because let’s be honest… who am I to question His plans? Sure, my heart was broken. Shattered to pieces. But I wasn’t burning up my prayer line with questions. I was content that this was God’s plan. I had written in my prayer journal, “Lord, your plans far exceed my dreams.”
“And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:7
Have you ever been in a season of life, whether it be cancer or illness, death or loss, a change of careers, etc., where you have found yourself wishing things had turned out differently? I think it’s only human nature to want out of the valley. I have a precious friend that is in the valley. She’s been there for some time now. Her husband — the leader of her home, her sweetheart, the father of her children, a Godly man — has terminal cancer. They are young. Active. Hardworking. Loving…and deep in the valley. It seems so surreal. So wrong. You see, she’s refreshingly real, courageous and brave. She’s a go-getter who is honest, genuine, fiercely loyal, quirky, and a teeny bit inappropriate to which – I secretly
hate love! I admire her and look up to her even on her darkest Debbie Downer days.
I was reminded while reading One Thousand Gifts of the story in the Old Testament in the book of 2 Kings, chapter 20 and in the book 2 Chronicles, chapters 32-33. King Hezekiah was sick and supposed to die. He cried out to the Lord, and the Lord allowed Hezekiah to live 15 more years. Hezekiah went on to have a son named Manasseh. When Hezekiah died, Manasseh was made King. Manasseh was evil. He did evil deeds and caused the Israelites to do more evil than the surrounding heathen nations. Had Hezekiah died when God first intended, Manasseh would have never been born. I write of this Old Testament story to say this…we don’t want to rewrite the story because we don’t know what a different ending holds.
Even in her valley and even in my grief, my friend and I both know our stories, our lives, are for HIS glory! Just as your stories are. We wouldn’t change it. (And I hope you wouldn’t either.) We would accept a spa day or some caffeine…but ultimately we wouldn’t change our stories. It’s not ours to change; it’s His. His plans far exceed my dreams, and so for now, I am “content to leave them in my father’s keeping. “