When I spoke to her today, I didn’t expect her words.
“Remember when you gave me your prayer card?” Maria asked.
I nodded. Patrick and I met Uve and Maria on our first family trek to France. They had opened their home and their pool to us and had one of those unforgettable parties. Their kindness and heart for Jesus were part of God’s wooing us to this area. At the end of the evening, sated from a delightful meal, I handed her our prayer card.
That was two years ago.
“I used to keep it on my fridge, but I’ve moved it. It’s now in my desk. You are in my pencil box. Whenever I open my desk and need to write, I see you. And I pray for you.”
After such a difficult nine months on the field, her words were first aid to a broken heart.
Thank you, Maria.