You know that letter I wrote? You won’t get it. Nor will you get your birthday card because I mailed it too late. I got the news this week that you’ve moved away from the area where Compassion works. It was such a shock, and I can’t tell you how sad we are to lose contact with you after twelve years, to not be able to see you graduate from the program. How I’d hoped we’d be able to travel to Kenya one day and meet you face-to-face. That won’t happen now either–unless God works a miracle.
Insert big, deep sigh.
But I talked to my friend, Amanda, who works in Colorado Springs. She pulled up our account and told me it looked like you simply moved with your family. Maybe your mom got a new job. So that would be a good thing. She said you planned to continue your education. That’s a good thing. She said you were healthy and well-behaved. That’s a good thing. And she says you accepted Jesus during the time you’ve been part of our family. That’s a GREAT thing!
I was looking through some of your photos the other day, from the first one when you were just four to the one we received just a couple months ago. I’ve never done that before–looked at them all together like that. Wow! You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman.
One thing I’ve learned–again–is to never let time steal our words. To never put off writing that note, to never put off letting someone know how much they mean to us, how much we love them. Because time only lasts for a time, and then it’s gone, and then it’s too late.
You were so faithful in your letters–every couple of months. I–not so much. I never want to lose time again, to be late in time.
It’s so hard to say goodbye–when I can’t really say goodbye. Because there’s no way to deliver a “closure” letter. But I’m not sure I want closure. I want you to know, Nduta, that you’ll always be a part of us, always in our hearts, and always in our prayers. And we’re trusting God will continue to lead you into the fullness of His plan for your life. The good news is we will meet one day, though maybe not in this world.
In one of your last letters you wrote, “May God expand your territories and provide for your needs. May Almighty God bless you and your family in Jesus’ name. Amen.”
I’m praying that for you today, precious girl. It’s so hard to say goodbye. I wish I could hug your sweet neck, but since I can’t, I pray God will. Stay close to Him. And if you ever find yourself in a place where you can re-join the Compassion program, please give them our sponsor number because we’d sponsor you again in a heartbeat.
Have a beautiful life. Love you oh so big. Forever and always.
In the stillness,
Sandy (and Dennis)
P.S. We just sponsored another girl, Jeidy, from the Dominican Republic, where I recently visited. She’s 13 now, and we will be faithful in time for her because of you.