In this month when we celebrate grads and dads, I have a story for you…

“Would you pray that my parents can come to my graduation?” I asked the young women in my college Bible study. “My mom and dad are missionaries in Nigeria, and they have a whole year to go, before their next furlough, but we graduate in four months.”

While the other girls would have their parents in the audience applauding this big step in life, mine didn’t have time off. Even if the mission board granted them leave, they had no money for airfare.

I longed for Mom and Dad to share this major milestone with me, so I dared ask for the impossible. In January, I wrote a letter. My parents had no telephone or internet, and my note took four to five weeks to reach inland Africa. Their reply traveled back by ocean freighter, forcing me to wait yet another month.

With trembling fingers, I carefully slit open the top of the envelope and pulled out the lined, white stationery bearing my mom’s familiar handwriting. Nothing would make us happier than to be there with you when you graduate, I read. But we just can’t leave right now.

My lower lip trembled as tears blurred the words. In my heart, I heard a heavy iron gate clang shut on my dream.

As a child, I had lived in southwestern Nigeria with my missionary family. Our cozy village station lay nestled in a semi-circle of hills studded with rocky outcroppings and savannah brush. But beginning in first grade, I attended boarding school 300 miles away, only returning home for Christmas and summer vacations.

During those lengthy separations from family, I suffered from intense homesickness. Many nights I cried alone in bed, feeling abandoned by God and my parents. By fourth grade, I “toughened up” and accepted that way of life as normal, but the wounds remained.

When I began college in California, my parents continued their work in Nigeria, and the transition to a college dorm proved difficult. I felt constant confusion while trying to assimilate into this new culture.

To numb the ache, I immersed myself in my classes and my job. But I couldn’t ignore the simmering anger. I resented my parents for putting their ministry ahead of me, and I blamed God for my loneliness.

Then I chided myself for wanting my family to live closer. A lot of kids have moved from home to attend universities in other states. I’m so weak and immature. Do I really need Mommy and Daddy at this age? I never had them before.

In my final semester, when I shared my wish with my Bible study friends, my tongue tripped over the words. It seemed like such a petty request.

“God cares about all our concerns,” my friend Beth said. “He loves to give good gifts.” The girls added me to their prayers.

However, two huge, unspoken questions droned over and over in my mind like helicopters circling above a crime scene: Is God able to break through these impossible barriers? And if He can, does He care enough?

In mid-May, the phone in my apartment kitchen rang. When I heard my father’s voice, I sank into a kitchen chair. Something must be terribly wrong, for him to call long distance.

“Dad? Where are you?” Alarming scenarios whirled through my mind.

“I just landed at San Francisco airport,” He began with his distinct, low drawl. “I need medical treatment for a problem with my prostate.”

“Oh, no.” The words squeaked out while my heart pounded to the beat of an African drum.

He continued with a soft chuckle, adding his trademark humor. “On the bright side, Mom’s here with me. We’ll both be in the stands, whooping and hollering, when you collect your diploma next weekend.”

“I can’t wait to see you. I’ve missed you so much.” Dropping the phone into the cradle, I screamed, “I don’t believe it!”

“What on earth happened?” My roommate poked her head out her bedroom doorway.

“My parents just flew in.” The prickle at the back of my nose signaled I needed a tissue. “While I was praying, God was preparing their way.”

As I hugged my roommate, I silently wondered, how is it possible that God answered my prayer through something as crazy as Dad needing treatment for his prostate?

On the big day, several hundred graduates promenaded through the rows of metal folding chairs on the university football field. Dad and Mom grabbed seats in the closest row, and I heard their voices cheering above everyone else’s.

The next week, Dad had his operation for prostate cancer. While we waited for him to come out of surgery, Mom described the extraordinary circumstances that brought them to California, beginning with Dad’s crisis of pain while driving to a remote Nigerian village.

“Through God’s perfect timing, we were just an hour from the only hospital in that rural region,” Mom said.

Soon the surgeon pushed open the waiting room door, and his voice boomed out reassurance. “We got all the cancer.”

After several weeks of rest, Dad and Mom flew back to their teaching ministry in Nigeria, and I started my first full-time job, brimming with confidence that stemmed from my newfound conviction of God’s unfailing love.

Link it to Your Life

In his sovereignty, God sometimes allows loss, loneliness, and grief to touch our lives. But he also brings healing, redemption, and reconciliation. His father-heart is always filled with a deep love for us, even though we may not feel it during tough times.

Has there been a point in your life when you felt lost, alone, and abandoned by God or others? How did you cope? What are some ways you’ve seen God providing for you or proving his love to you?

Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love. Lamentations 3:32 (NIV)

To Read More…

In July 2020, this story was published in CrossRiver Media’s newest book, Abba’s Answers, which talks about the freedom, peace, and rest found in our Heavenly Father’s answers to prayer. Thirty stories of God’s answers to prayer can be purchased here.

Additionally, this was published in the Inspire Kindness anthology in November 2018 which you can view and purchase here.