I'm Just Sayin'

A week after Akouvi died, I emailed Dela in Togo and asked her for the names of a few children from Akouvi’s project who needed a sponsor. I wanted to honor Akouvi’s memory by sponsoring another child. And I think I also wanted to fill that gaping hole she had left.

The list came quickly. Three little girls. I was drawn to one of their pictures. I don’t know why—just like I don’t know why I was drawn to Akouvi. But then I read the short description Dela had sent. Nadege has health problems. She’s spent her life in and out of the hospital.

And I felt my throat close up.

I don’t want to do it again. I don’t want to invest and love and then hurt and grieve. I poured out my fears to a friend, and she urged me to wait, to pray. It had only been a week.

So I did. I waited, but didn’t really expect any kind of confirmation. I felt alone and angry and confused.

But today, in a devotion time at work, God spoke. He spoke through a random parable about a fig tree. A tree that had produced no fruit in years. The owner of the vineyard was ready to chop it down. The tender of the vineyard urged him to wait. Let me nurture the tree for a year, he implored. And then, if there is still no fruit, do with it what you will.

And there the parable ended. Where was the next verse. The verse saying that the next year the tree produced fruit. That it grew and flourished and the master was pleased?

It wasn’t there.

The tender of the tree would spend the next year nurturing and pruning and fertilizing the tree. But the thing is, he had no guarantees.

And when I began sponsoring Akouvi, I had no guarantees. God called me to do it—God showed her to me, softened my heart to her. And in less than a year, she was gone. There were fruits of our relationship, but the harvest was gone much faster than I had ever imagined.

God calls me to relationship—but without guarantees. I thought Akouvi would grow up, graduate, and change her country.

Akouvi died at 8-years-old in the first grade. And she changed my life.

So today, I said that I was willing to sponsor Nedege. If she’s still available, I will form a new relationship with another little girl in a small dusty town in Togo. I will pray for her health. But I will have no guarantees.

It’s terrifying.