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When I graduated from High School my mom gave me a book. She wasn’t the first mom to do so, and she wont be the last. It’s sort of become a tradition, a standard gift to give a young lad or lass about to begin their journey into a sometimes dark and dangerous world. The book wasn’t about winning friends or influencing people, it wasn’t about making money, or achieving fame. It was a little book by Dr. Suess called “Oh the Places You’ll Go.”
It wasn’t your typical “Green Eggs and Ham” style of story, though written in the familiar voice. It was a chronicle of the journey of life, about seizing opportunities and finding joy in every day things. Today, as we launched The Crucible’s Fire I stopped and stared at Brynna for a bit and wondered, “What places will you go?”
Every day she does pretty much the same thing, she gets up, eats breakfast, goes to school, come home and either vegges out or reads a book to the little girl in the mirror. Every day, it’s the same. You might think it a boring and listless existence, but you’d be wrong.
She may never climb a mountain, ride a bike, or run and play in the backyard. She will never know the joy of her first prom, first date, or marriage. She will never be just like the other kids, or even remotely like her peers, classmates, and friends.
But today, as I watched her walk on her own across the living room floor, I couldn’t help but think of all the places she has gone and it gives me hope of all the places she will go. You see, there are tons of things she will never do, but there are just as many only she can do.
I’ve never reached across the ocean to touch the heart a person in despair, but Brynna has. I’ve never inspired anyone to do much of anything, but Brynna does it all the time. Every day she draws a breath she lives as a testament to the sustaining power of God. I can’t do that. She embraces each day with the same joy and peace that is only known by those who fully trust in someone for their well-being. I struggle to do that.
She is content with who she is while I often lament I am not someone else. She loves deeply and expects little. She is fragile in her clinical deportment, yet sound as granite in her resolve. Her resolve to be … well … just be.
Writing, publishing, and launching her story to this point has been a blessing. I can’t wait to see where else she will go. I often feel sad that she can’t get out and play, travel, and run wild and free like the others, but today changed everything. After today, who knows the places she’ll go? Who knows the lives she will touch.
I am continually amazed that we have been fortunate enough to have been blessed to such great degree and entrusted with such a jewel as this.
In this life, she may never know of her impact on the lives of others, but I take great joy in knowing that one day, one glorious day, she will stand unassisted with me in Glory to hear the words of our Savior, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.” She has suffered much, worn it well, and one day, I believe, she will wear a crown of glory in its place. Thank you all for joining us in seeing all the places she will go.