She had almond-shaped eyes, with a fold framing them that marked her disability… yet also gave her the mark of Korean beauty, sangkapul. She had few words, but many motions, few songs, but many melodies. I gave my heart and soul to her in two and a half months of nannying– I had run away from the job at first, uncertain of what was wanted of me. When in fact, all that was wanted of me was all I had to give. Love. Oh, Jesus poured out through me. But I also gave what I had, love. And how can anyone fully know what she gave back to me– a sense of purpose and a sense of freedom, an understanding of the human heart, and patience and joy.

She was beautiful. And it was not just the beauty that stopped strangers in their tracks– like how a lady asked to take her picture in the Ark Park, and how she was hugged and admired by my friends. No, her beauty succeeded that she had the ability to give and receive love to whomever she met. It’s often said of Down Syndrome kids… the joy… but Amy was all a unique person on her own, a unique child who I was privileged enough to love.
And there I was, two weeks after she left, in my grief, startled by that one picture of her. But I knew that God would take care of her. I had to proclaim to myself that God would take care of her. Hope not despair.
Sometimes I wandered through my rooms and the hallways of Hualalai Village, trying to imagine how she had been there only a few weeks before, touching the very objects I saw and felt. She was here. I know it. And it’s so odd to still be here in Kona, when so much changed in a few weeks. Did I change when she left? No. But for the first time, I felt an intense pain of loss… so different from any other separations. I leave the country so soon, and I don’t know when I will see her again. Those who ever saw us together understood.
But oh, God was really was with me every step of the way, and He saw her and me through and through, every day. He felt what we felt, and He saw what we saw. And I had to give my grief to Him– or else my heart would have become closed and locked, never to be opened again. God gave me the ability to acutely feel and care for people. Therefore I could not lose heart. I will trust in Him.
For He has been guiding my steps all along. 
For once, that day I just wanted to go drive somewhere and have a frappe and forget about it all. But no. I had to check myself. I didn’t want to numb the pain. I wanted God. Whatever that looked like. I wanted Him. “Yes, yes– He loves me.” And since I wrote about Amy a month ago, since I proclaimed I wanted God, oh He has given Himself to me. And that is the most precious, beautiful gift I could ever receive. 
May the Lamb receive the reward of His suffering.