The Ledger

By Jennifer Greene-Sullivan

Five years ago, while teaching in Wheeler County, I met one of the most precious—and ornery—students I have ever taught. She would hate that I am writing about her now, but Gracie changed my life in ways she never intended.

Because of her, I met her mother, Amy Horne. Amy would become a kinsman redeemer for me and for my family.

What began as concern over a teenager’s eating habits quickly became something much deeper. Our conversations turned to the Lord, and before long, we were praying together, encouraging one another, and walking side by side in faith.

Amy became my sister, and I began to watch her pour that same faithfulness into her nephew, Grayson. Amy has homeschooled Grayson since 2020. When she began teaching him, he was nonverbal. Through patience, consistency, and love, she helped him find his voice.

Today, he is not only speaking—he is creating.

Grayson is a young author and illustrator, full of imagination and talent. I have had the honor of working with him as he develops his book about his character, Dude. His creativity reflects the years of care and investment Amy has poured into his life.

That is simply who Amy is.

When my own daughter, Sophia, struggled with mental health and ran away for more than 80 days in 2022, Amy stood in the gap for my family. She spoke life and Scripture when I did not have the strength to speak it myself. She reached for my daughter when she would not respond to anyone else.

When my daughter wanted to come home but was too afraid to ask, she called Amy. Amy helped bring my prodigal home.

That moment changed everything for our family.

Since then, we have interceded together—for our children, for our schools, and for our communities. She has carried burdens that were never hers to carry—simply because she loves so well.

Amy is faithful like that, speaking life over others, and now, it is my turn to stand in the gap for her. Three weeks ago, Amy and Grayson were involved in a devastating car accident. They were driving home from church on a Wednesday night so that Grayson could attend youth Bible study.

In the middle of chaos and tragedy, they survived with injuries, but her dear friend Alicia did not. Sadly, Amy walks through grief and unfamiliar spiritual territory, learning how to live without her dear friend.

At the same time, she is helping Grayson process what he has lived through, and this thirteen-year-old boy, who has already overcome so much, now faces a new kind of healing—one that touches both his body and his heart.

Their bond has always been strong, but their bond has been marked by something deeper.

It is a wilderness they did not choose.

Scripture gives us a woman who knew that place.

In Genesis 16, Hagar fled into the wilderness, overwhelmed and alone. Yet even there, “the angel of the Lord found her by a spring of water in the wilderness” (Genesis 16:7, ESV).

She was not overlooked.

She was not forgotten.

She was found.

Hagar named Him El Roi—“the God who sees me” (Genesis 16:13, ESV). Later, when she again faced despair, God met her once more. “Then God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water” (Genesis 21:19, ESV).

The provision was already there.

She just could not see it yet.

Amy, God sees you.

He sees you in grief, and He sees you in healing. He sees you as you continue to love and to lead Grayson through a season neither of you could have fathomed, yet He already knows what your future holds.

Amy, El Roi sees the years you have poured into Grayson. He sees the voice you helped bring forth, and He sees the gift that is still alive inside of this precious young man.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18, ESV).

He is near.

The well is there even if you cannot see it yet.

Just like Hagar, Amy, you are not alone in the wilderness. The God who met an Egyptian slave woman is the same God who walks with you in the days to come—guiding your steps, holding your heart, and carrying you through what feels impossible.

You have stood in the gap for so many. Now, the Lord stands in the gap for you.

Even in the wilderness, the God who sees reminds us that torn wings still fly.