My Ali is home.
She’s actually in my home (and by home, I mean my home-town, and technically not even really, but when you meet in West Africa, and end up in the same section of South Western Ontario over Christmas, it’s close enough). She’s home, and engaged, and planning a wedding and, from what I can tell from this seat, is exactly in the center of her destiny.
I love this girl. I remember seeing her for the first time in the Brussels airport running around screaming and laughing joyously with a 5-year-old, presumably Belgian child, that she had met moments earlier. It sort of reminded me of something my Kate would do in a foreign airport if presented with a delayed flight, which obviously drew me in. I remember standing huddled in a crowd of Mercy Shippers in the Liberian “airport” – a term I must use very loosely – and Ali, the experienced African missionary, confidently informing me that we were going to ride together to the ship. “Alright”, I thought (and if I remember correctly, said out loud). “I guess we are friends”.
I remember feeling far from home that first week, and going to my self-declared new friend’s cabin in hopes of finding someone to pray with. Never one to miss an opportunity to hang out with God, we had our first of many God-talks that day. The next six months would find us in a wide variety of desperate situations together. Sadie. Hepatitis. Baby Greg. Jitta. Family crises at home that we weren’t physically a part of, but that rocked us just the same. We prayed for miracles. Some of them happened. Some of them turned out differently than our humanness would have desired. We cried, and hugged, and laughed, and watched SYTYCD in almost real-time, and co-founded team Greg, and ate chicken bread & humus, and stuck stickers on small children’s foreheads, and gave report like only ICU nurses can do. And, out of all this, emerged this fabulous friendship.
And now she is here, and I got to hug her yesterday. Right here, in my very own country. She is staying here for just a while, before she goes on to live the rest of her ridiculously purpose-driven life. And, I really can’t thank God enough that He is letting our paths cross yet again.
Yesterday, Ali wrote a blog post called “New Song”, reflecting on her year on the Africa Mercy and transitioning to this new life, and she wrote something that stuck in my head:
“I don't want to be seduced by my culture into thinking I need to have or be or do anything other than what God would have me have and be and do.”
Even if I am the only one who gets anything from that, it would have been worth it. And, not only is it just so true, but the fact that this token of goodness came from my dear friend, is just further proof to me that God is good. That He gives us just what we need at just the right time. That He doesn’t have any responsibility or obligation to, but that He blesses us with friendships, and experiences, and love beyond our wildest expectations.
As He and I have been talking lately, I have been reminded of that. The simple fact that God is good. If we can accept that, we have the tools to cope with whatever life presents us with. If we truly believe that the God of the universe is in control and works for the good of those who serve Him, then we can have ultimate peace, knowing that He has it all figured out. And, in the words of my Ali…I don’t want to be anything other than what God would have me be.
