Eva.

 

My birthday was yesterday. If I was back home, I would have started celebrating a few days early. The best gift anyone can ever give me is their time; that’s the request every year. Friends and family would reserve days in August to spend time with me (my calendar fills up quick) and I love it. I have different circles so celebrations happen on different days. There’s family, church family, friends, work friends, work family, girlfriends only, one on ones just to name a few.

 

This year, Jesus has interrupted my birthday traditions. Perhaps for the rest of my life. I didn’t spend time with any of my loved ones at all. I received greetings and messages throughout the day whenever I would have Internet but it was absolutely not the same. Though my day was simple, there was peace within that couldn’t be explain. I wasn’t celebrating my life the way I was accustomed to celebrating. No fancy restaurants. No cookie bouquets. No spas. No giant bars of Toblerone. No quality time. Nothing.

 

After dinner, we went to a church in a nearby village. We arrived at this humble home where there aren’t any city lights, the roads are unpaved and sheep being raised. A little girl greeted us in front of the house. This must be the birthday girl. She was wearing a white silky dress with a pink cardigan and purple sweat pants underneath because it was cold. Her shoes didn’t match. “Is today your birthday?” I asked in Spanish. She nodded. “Happy birthday,” I greeted, “..how old are you?” She held up four of her tiny fingers. I went inside the house and greeted everyone who was there. Minutes later, service began. There were lots of praise and worship. Betsy gave a testimony and Amanda preached. I watched Eva throughout the evening. She couldn’t keep her little eyes open and kept yawning but the night belong to her; she fought to stay awake.

 

The service ended and we gathered around to sing ‘happy birthday’ to Eva (in English and Spanish). All eyes on this precious girl. They placed her also pink and white cake over a bucket and table cloth in the middle of the room. A table just her size. After the song, our team gave her a dollar’s worth of candy as a gift. She couldn’t believe all of it was for her. You see, Eva comes from a ‘low economy’ family and normally can’t afford to throw any kind of party until now. Sitting in my chair, I was so deeply humbled. Four years ago, the Father began to write her story just like he did for me. In fact, he continues to write stories that aren’t about us but for his kingdom. 

 

At the end of the night, Mel approached me and said “…we’ll celebrate your birthday; I just don’t know when.” I assured her that it was okay and it wasn’t a big deal. We’re not even promised tomorrow. Yet the Father continues to write my story whether I’m celebrating the day he created me at a winery in Napa Valley or living in an abandoned clinic in Cajamarca for the month.