Amy: "Loved"

I sat down tonight intending to write a post about our adoption progress, but to be honest my heart and mind are elsewhere.

A few days ago my dear friend Amy discovered that she has Stage IV Lymphoma. Two weeks ago she was (for all we knew) as healthy as any other young, energetic, beautiful mother of two preschoolers. Healthier, actually, considering her remarkable discipline and consistent trips to the gym. No fevers, no fatigue, no symptoms ... yet here we are.

Incredibly, I think she is handling the news better than I am. Her spirit has radiated unwavering trust from the moment her doctor hinted at cancer. While her friends (including myself) were frantically brushing aside the frightening possibility, Amy was calmly stating, "I'm fine with it either way. If I have cancer, it's because God has a plan for it. As long as He's glorified, that's all that matters."

I believe there are few people who can make a statement like that and honestly mean it. If I'd been the one with the diagnosis, I might have dredged up the composure to say something "spiritual" and courageous, but I strongly suspect every word would have been hypocrisy.

Amy, on the other hand, is a gifted woman. Her faith in God's goodness never seems to falter. She holds the things of this world loosely, always ready to release them in favor of eternally significant pursuits that bring honor to her Savior. I can't tell you how many times I have watched her sacrifice her time, money, agenda, or comfort in order to serve others - often those who seem the least deserving and least appreciative.

I am among those who have felt her love in a very dark hour, and it is a gift I will never forget. Months after the fact, I finally wrote a note to thank her, and I recall crying in gratitude as I typed it. In honor of my sweet friend's compassionate heart, I want to share what I wrote:

Dear Amy,

Forgive me...this letter is long overdue! I want to thank you for the love you have shown me, and particularly for your selfless companionship on that awful night in September.

Those hours were without a doubt some of the hardest of my life. I remember begging God to let me feel His presence and comfort. At the time I thought He chose not to answer that prayer. But now, in hindsight, I see that He did answer. He gave me you.

When I look back on that night, I often think of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. The emotional anguish He experienced was undoubtedly far worse than my panic attack, but thanks to my trial I have a new perspective on those moments of His life. I understand--at least in part--why He desired his disciples' companionship and prayer. There's something innately soothing about the physical presence of someone who loves you, especially when your world seems to be ripping apart at the seams.

I can't begin to imagine Jesus' hurt when His disciples repeatedly fell alseep rather than pray with Him. I believe this was part of God's perfect plan to fulfill prophecy, allowing His precious Son to be betrayed and forsaken. Jesus was utterly alone in His hour of need, and I know His pain must have been crippling.

How thankful I am that he bore that burden in my place! Because of His sacrifice, our troubles are only temporary. And through His love, we have a spiritual family; because of Christ, we are sisters.

I wonder what Jesus thought about that night in the garden. Did He envision you and I, and all the others who would be saved because of His sacrifice? Did He foresee us sitting on my couch, entering
the throne room of God, united by our faith in His name? Perhaps we'll find out some day.

How thankful I am that you were willing to fight the battle with me through that long night. Unlike Jesus' companions, you readily gave up your rest and comfort for my sake. I have no doubt that God took pleasure in your sacrifice, not only because you persevered where the disciples did not, but because your love and selflessness emulated that of His beloved Son.

So, thank you, Amy, for your friendship. Whatever paths we travel in the future, whether near or far, I will never forget the way God used you to wrap His arms around me in my darkest hour. I love you.

Your sister in Christ,
Alison

This week I began compiling a list of potential names for our adopted child. With Amy so heavy on my heart, I typed her name into the search engine and discovered its meaning: "loved." How appropriate.

Please join me in praying for Amy as she and her family embark on this new and uncertain journey.

http://www.amybeachyshope.blogspot.com