As I handed the border control officer my passport to enter into the Kingdom of Swaziland, something out of the ordinary happened. The man with the genuinely joyful smile on his face looked at my passport and said “Ooo! Abigail! [STAMP] Welcome to the Kingdom, Abigail!”
I smiled and told him thank you, and left the building feeling slightly perplexed by finding yet another quirk of Africa. He wasn’t completely off base, my middle name is Abigail, but as I began to ask my fellow squad-mates, I was the only person who he had addressed by their middle name. He was trained to know how to read passports, but he saw something significant in my middle name. I don’t believe in coincidence. Maybe I’ve been reading too much into this little interaction, but I genuinely believe that it was meant to get my attention.
My parents were very intentional when picking out baby names. They wanted my sister and I to have names that would speak into our character. Emma means “caring one,” and Abigail means “Father’s joy.” I have been told over the years that I live up to my first name, and I have tried to make a conscious effort to continue caring for those around me. It’s only been in the last 6-8 months that I’ve decided that I wanted to live up to my full name. I know I bring my earthly father joy… He tells me that I do (Note: I am a daddy’s girl/tomboy. I enjoy working on cars, fishing, shooting and building/fixing things). It’s been in this recent part of my walk that I realized how much I wanted to know that I was a source of joy for my heavenly Father, and I’ve been thinking about it frequently since being on the race: in Mozambique during girls’ date night and 3 times during debrief in South Africa.
I am my Father’s joy. It is my identity as a daughter of the true King. It’s not a coincidence that he has brought me to Swaziland. It is not a coincidence that he used that border guard to welcome me into this mountainous Kingdom as my Father’s joy. He is increasing my joy by showing me His joy in the beauty that He created. Swaziland is the most accurate depiction of majestic that I can imagine. It is verdant (I’ve always wanted to use that word), and sitting here on the mountain top at El Shaddai orphanage stirs up my Father’s joy within my spirit. I can breathe here. There is peace.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go soak-in and absorb the joy of my Father.
