There are things I don’t know.
I don’t know why there are children starving in Africa, and in this country too.
I don’t know why I’ve seen blind people see again, deaf people hear, while a girl from my high school died of cancer just a couple of months after giving birth to her baby girl.
I don’t know why other babies are born to parents who will hurt them.
There are other things I do know.
I do know that I heard a voice, loud and clear, say that I would be Simon’s wife three years before he asked me.
I do know that my son spent his first week of life in the hospital on antibiotics, feeding through a nose tube, only for all his tests to come back clear and healthy.
I do know that, on numerous occasions, we have silently, fervently asked God to fill in the holes of our finances, only to find hundred-pound-notes slipped through our mail slot the next day.
I do know that I have seen drug addicts and violent offenders on their knees, tears streaming down their faces, hands raised in worship.
I used to be afraid to say “I don’t know.” As if I needed all the answers to prove that He’s real. I don’t have all the answers, and I only know a few things for sure, but those are my stones in the desert. They’re the things I look back on when the I-don’t-knows come thick and fast.
I don’t know a lot of things, but I know Him, and for today, that’s enough.