The girl I thought might never learn to write is now writing her name and letters of the alphabet. She is absolutely obsessed with the letter “B”. She writes the letter B everywhere, she traces it in the ketchup on her plate, she writes it in water on the sink. B’s of all shapes, sizes and colors fill the pages of books in our house.
When it comes to her name, well, it is just too tempting to turn the R into a B. So that’s why the nice dining table given to us by Brandon’s parents now has BHEMA carved into it.
Here it is in crayon:
I imagine the people who may sit at this table and the stories I’ll want to tell of the girl behind the name. How those letters are a triumph, really. And how her misspelled name etched there forever makes me think of God carvings:
“Behold, I have engraven thee upon the palms of my hands.” Is. 49:16
This morning I read Spurgeon’s take on it:
Zion said, “The Lord hath forsaken me, and my God hath forgotten me.”… [And God] cries, “How can I have forgotten thee, when I have graven thee upon the palms of my hands? How darest thou doubt my constant remembrance, when the memorial is set upon my very flesh?”… Heaven and earth may well be astonished that rebels should obtain so great a nearness to the heart of infinite love as to be written upon the palms of his hands. “I have graven thee.” It does not say, “Thy name.” The name is there, but that is not all: “I have graven thee.” See the fullness of this! I have graven thy person, thine image, thy case, thy circumstances, thy sins, thy temptations, thy weaknesses, thy wants, thy works; I have graven thee, everything about thee, all that concerns thee; I have put thee altogether there.”
What kind of love is this? Thank you, Lord, for remembering me!