The dad sat on her bed and pulled down a beautiful, embroidered picture that was on the wall above it. He was crying, and pulled down the picture and showed the back of it to us. He still thinks God is good. Somehow. “I feel like we’re only seeing this part right now, where it looks like chaos,” he said. “But someday we’ll see the front, where the stitches make more sense, and it will be beautiful. It doesn’t make sense, but I have to trust God.” There are those who would say he’s naive, but I think this is the very essence of trust, and the whole point of it.
