Certainly!

One of the wonderful, unpredictable benefits of living just off the 855 is my friendship with Leslie.

There's no real logic to our friendship: she's a couple of (okay, three!) decades younger than I am. She is related to, or friendly with, almost everyone in the county; I'm a newcomer, an outsider. She loves horses; I'm scared of them. She rises to new challenges; I take a few steps back in trepidation. She'll take on anyone; I shrivel at the anticipation of confrontation.

How I met her was a little unusual. There was an election, so the Good Rancher, our friend Malcolm and I headed to the local polling station. After we cast our ballots - the GR "solemnly affirming" that I was who I claimed to be - we went to the one remaining local eating establishment for a burger.

Her folks had bought the place the previous year, and she was our waitress. We discussed voting for a few minutes and I discovered she was eligible for the first time to vote. She was uninterested.

I launched into lecture mode, using phrases like "privilege and responsibility" and "civic duty" and "women fought for this right." Probably to shut me up more than anything, she capitulated and said she would vote if I would go with her.

Her aunt registered her; she cast her ballot; by the time we walked back to the restaurant, our friendship had been launched.

Two years later, I realise we do have a few things in common: we love our dogs; we like reading; we text at all hours; we wear our hearts on our sleeves.

And now, this: this past Friday, January 26, at 2 pm, we attended the Celebration of Life for her Dad.

Last year, at the same time on the same day, the Memorial Service for my Dad began.

We both miss our Dads from the centre of our very beings ...

She seems to float just above the ground when she walks; I lumber like my favourite pachyderms. 

She calls me Momma K. I call her My Girl.

Something else about Leslie: she is living proof of what a preemie can grow to be.

Here's her story in her words:

"I was born at 24 weeks and I had heart surgery then eye surgery then I had pinholes in my intestine because they fed me milk to soon so they removed some of my intestine and put a ileostomy bag on me and I came home with oxygen and had it for 3 months and then I had to go get the ileostomy bag taken off and closed back up."

She as much as anyone is following Levi's story, is loving him and caring for him and rooting for him.

She, more than most, understands.

Our little Levi is now scheduled for neurosurgery to insert a shunt tomorrow morning, Monday, January 28, at 7:20 a.m. (Mountain Standard Time).

His mum updated us a couple of days ago: "He's so strong and even continues to try to breastfeed. Earlier he was having lots more events with clusters of heart rate and oxygen drops. His eyes strain to open with the pressure ..."

As I was contemplating the journey that Levi has already taken, the accomplishments he has achieved in his short life, the joy he brings, I was trying to speculate what God might have in mind for Levi. I was trying to bear some of the burden of his exhausted Mum and Dad. And I wrote a note to the Rev David McIlveen, the minister who conducted the graveside service for my Dad's body's committal to the earth. I thanked him for the word of hope he offered from the Bible that day, certain knowledge that we will see our dear Dad again; and for the comfort his presence brought us in the days following the funeral - he stayed with our family, bracing us up through the initial pounding waves of bereavement, always pointing us to God, who has promised to be "a Father to the fatherless."

He wrote me back promptly. And in his letter he offered this reflection, which I passed on to my family:

"Recently, I found great comfort in the words of Exodus chapter 3 verse 12, where God said to Moses, 'Certainly I will be with thee.' I have thought much about that word certainly. God could have said, 'I will be with thee,' and that would have been exceedingly precious. But to supplement the message with the thought of certainly is most reassuring to us.
In thinking about Moses, I thought of my own heart in that Moses was faced with,
The uncertainty of his faith.
The unreliability of his flesh.
And the undercurrent of his fear.
Each one of these challenges God addresses with the word CERTAINLY providing the preface.
Regrettably, life and time brings its changes, and with those changes we must look to the One who changes not."

And God reminded me that as He was with Moses, so He is with Levi.

This evening I read Levi's dad's post on Facebook:

"... We are so thankful for how far he has come, and know that we are never beyond the reach of God's love, even when our feet can't feel the bottom. We've seen so many miracles through Levi's life so far, from his conception to now. We've also seen them through the hands and hearts of the incredible team caring for him.

"Unless God intervenes this weekend, we believe that Levi needs to have this pressure relieved and the only way to do so at this point is with a shunt. Of course we pray for steady hands, clear decision making, no bleeding or infection now ... or in the months and years to come, and a clean uncomplicated recovery. We know that God is able if He is willing, but more so, He is CERTAINLY with us, and with our little boy, and that will not change. Through this all, our Lord continues to still our storms and remains the same, yesterday, today and forever ..."

God is for Leslie, for Levi, for us. He is with us. His plan for Levi's life will unfold in due season - He has promised to make all things beautiful in its time.

And He will.

Certainly.