The calming scent of cedar filled the room as I slowly lifted the heavy lid of the wooden chest. It had likely been more than ten years since I last looked inside. I drew out the familiar pink and white baby blanket resting on top and held it close, imagining how my dear mum had wrapped me up countless times in its pillowy folds and nestled me in her arms.
Late into the night over cups of tea going cold, I heard her story and surveyed the landscape of her life from the outside listening in. My mind reeled and my heart ached as her words landed in my ears. There were problems I couldn’t fix; solutions I couldn’t provide. She was in a desert season — and I couldn’t change that.
The sound of humming lawnmowers and the carefree laughter of children playing could be heard throughout the neighborhood on that summer afternoon as I excitedly cut through backyards in an effort to reach my house as quickly as possible
Several months ago, I was asked a very unusual question as a room full of eyes were laid on me, awaiting my answer. “What quality instantly makes you dislike someone?”
Winter had just given birth to the splendor of spring and the notion of swapping my thick knits for lighter layers was an exciting one. I had also been a mama for a full year and felt the need for a little polish and poise in my wardrobe and appearance.
As I have studied Amy Carmichael’s astounding rescue work, marked by such a dauntless commitment to seek and save the lost, I am continually reminded of the night when God seemed to pose the question, “What if that were Hudson?”