I was about ten years old, and it was Easter Sunday. We had just been to church to celebrate the resurrection, though I was a bit more excited about my Easter basket. We had discovered our Easter gift: a single four square ball. I was rather disappointed, especially as this meant I would have to share my gift with others. However, right when I was about to talk myself out of my despair, I found a card that explained a bit more.
The card explained the fact that this year, our Easter baskets would be found at the end of a scavenger hunt. As Viktor and I sat reading our cards, my mom snapped the picture:
When I look back at this picture, I see the thrill of what's to come. The joy of hope realized.
Fastforward sixteen years. A park bench on a cobblestoned walk shaded by trees set on fire by autumn's touch. A question, a "yes"/"igen" and a beginning of a new life together.
It's the same face, the same joy of hope realized. The thrill of what's to come.
When I moved to Hungary, I didn't come with expectations to find my spouse. I came to be a teacher at an international school, and reluctantly laid my hopes and dreams at the feet of Him who holds my future.
But He is so gentle. He is so good. As I transferred my hope to Him, He took the hope I had given Him, and slowly gave it back, piece by piece.
As He gave me hope, I kept trying to give it back to Him. Somehow I have this flawed idea that in order to be a true Christ-follower, I always have to say "no," even to something good. That I always have to push away the gifts He gives. That a God-pleasing life is a life of saying "no" to His graces. But in His gentle way, He showed me my faulty logic, reminding me of His ultimate gift of salvation.
I give good gifts. You bring me joy by accepting them.
And so I sat on the park bench, at the end of a scavenger hunt, my heart overflowing with the joy of hope realized.
That my God knows my heart.
That He orchestrated the meeting of a Pakistan-born British-Kiwi and a Switzerland-born Hungarian-American in the city of my childhood summers.
And that our multicultural lives and ministries intertwine to bring Him glory.
The scavenger hunt is over, and I'm left with the joy of hope realized, but also a heart brimming with hopes to come!
Soli Deo Gloria!
