Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Postcards (08/29/05)
TITLE: Postcards From Andrew: A Mom Ponder Story
By Wendy Stewart-Hamilton
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Such is the case with Andrew. From his conception, I have been captivated with postcards. Inside of me, he was restlessly waiting to get out and explore the world in stages.
First he started with his bassinet and being held in multiple sets of arms that would transport him from room to room. “See the dogs, Andrew?” “Look at the stars, Andrew!” We would coo introducing him to new faces, new places, new colors; the new, we understood was important to him.
It takes a wanderer to spot one, after all.
From the beginning I posted maps and postcards with cancelled postage throughout his room. “Where do you choose to go, Andrew?” I would ask him.
Then he began to walk, to talk, to run…my son was growing into everything as a Mom I had pondered.
Every day a new adventure for us as we would sit down on his bed and pick a place on the map above his bed to talk about the people, the culture, and their needs.
“The world is bigger than any of us Andrew and we are all connected by something so strong that it pulls us together to do nothing less than live our best life for the glory of one bigger than anything we can imagine. The one is God.”
He understood. His stories showed a maturing richness about the inner workings of people and a compassion that made my heart skip a beat. Sometimes, even a Mom Ponder is disconcerting. Surely, he wouldn’t go away for good, right? God, you wouldn’t take him from me, I prayed for him, you gave him to me. He’s mine. He’s mine.
Then I realized, no, he wasn’t mine. God put in my heart the knowledge of his desire for Andrew just enough so I could let him go. I knew just enough to not be so afraid that he wouldn’t come back. I knew just enough to know that not even death could separate us in the Heaven and New Earth God designed for each of us. I could let go, need him less, and let him be the traveling testimony to grace and faith that others needed to see. Postcards from Andrew come. Every day I give my son back to God, back to the purpose that calls him from the safety of home, to foreign lands. Keep him safe, I ask, knowing that God hears the fear inside of me and knows that I struggle with letting my son go.
And still they come, the postcards. Like the ones that lined his shelves. Like the ones that we used as props for play and our imaginative journeys to far distant places. The names have changed and are consolidated down to one name and one sentiment – Love, Andrew.
“Hi, Mom, I am in Italy. We just finished the new roof on the orphanage. You should see this place mom it is better than we imagined. God is good. Give Dad a hug and kiss for me. Love, Andrew”
“Hi Mom, the weather is murky here in South Africa. The bugs are as we thought – but there is some relief. The church finally has running water and we are very grateful. We head out to New Zealand in a few days. See you soon. Love your Son, Andrew.”
“Hi Mom, two more weeks and I head home for furlough. I miss you and Dad but can’t wait to get back to the field as well. Hope you like the postcards. Love, Andrew”
I look around Andrew’s old room, every space seemingly covered with postcards of places he has visited; people he has reached out too and shown the living proof that God has a plan for each of us. I stand in this room and ponder one thing: God. My gratitude is unrestrained at seeing the postcards and through tears I see God’s preparation and his provision – Surely he has frequent flyer miles for the angels he sends to watch over my son.
Yes, it’s hard to let go, and I am afraid, but when the postcards come, I know Andrew thinks of home.
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