Amidst her tears, she admitted to desperately wanting to reconnect with the joy and love she had known in the little country church of her childhood. Speaking fondly of the old pastor who had baptized her, of hours spent frolicking with friends, of summer nights sleeping on a porch, of having little but lacking nothing, prefaced two laments: “I was happy once; now I’m miserable!” and “Life has stolen my faith!”

I spoke into the silence that followed, paraphrasing the early verses of Isaiah 43. “God is with you in the midst of your storms – you don’t have to drown. You are a child of His, redeemed on the Cross, and called to new life in the Resurrection . . . that’s how much you mean to Him! Why not give Him a chance to save you?”

Her next words were her last to me, “I’ll think about it on the plane home.” I pray she did.