in the papyrus basket

I have been thinking about Moses' story. Moses who led his people out of slavery, who parted the waters, and who could do all that because he was adopted when he was around three months old.

I am thinking about Moses' story because Noah is about the same age now as Moses was when his mother put him in a papyrus basket and pushed him out into the Nile. Her action took faith; she put her "fine child" into God's hands.

And God was there.

This is how we know. With perfect timing, Pharaoh's daughter was there, bathing with her attendants. With clarify of vision, she saw the papyrus basket among the reeds. With compassion in her heart, she heard Moses' small cry and spared his life, in defiance of her father.

Noah is in his own papyrus basket now, wending his way toward us. God has led us to wait expectantly for him, even while we do all we can to smooth out his way toward us. We are praying for his passport to be ready soon. (Meanwhile, we are also trying to get a new passport for E - her present one still has her six-month-old photo - so that we can all visit Noah in Manila in a couple of weeks.)

We carry him in our heart for now, and long for the day (not too long from now!) when we can carry him in our arms.