By Crystal Ligon 
Hannah knew what it was like to feel forgotten.
She often clutched her empty womb and thought Surely the Lord has forgotten me.
She knew the bitter sting of feeling isolated and alone.
She knew the anguish of praying day after day after day and seeing no fruit, not even a bud, from her faithfulness.
Hannah knew what it was like to feel like the weight of the world was on her, and her hope may have dwindled. Even those around her did not offer encouragement. Quite the opposite—they did their best to sow seeds of discouragement.
Yet Hannah pressed on. At times, not so easily. She fell on her face in the temple, and she wept in bitter sorrow as the feeling of being forgotten overpowered her. Hannah prayed and she believed until her God made good on His promise.
He gave Hannah the son she had prayed for.
Not just any son, either.
God gave her Samuel. Samuel went on to appoint the king.
Not only did God remember Hannah, but he brought her to a place where she could fully, one hundred percent, without fail, trust Him. So much so, she vowed that if God gave her a son, she would dedicate that son to Him.
Indeed, she did.
And the Lord remembered Hannah.
For a few years, I felt like the Lord had dropped me off in the wilderness and left me for dead.
Yet the God who remembered me time and time again is still here. He was working behind the scenes. He was making a way for that miracle.
God wasn’t punishing me or forsaking me by uprooting me from the place I thought was my promised land. My comfort wasn’t a part of God’s will.
He had not forgotten me.
He had not left me.
He was just working in His time.
As He drew me closer to Him, I began to reflect on the moments I felt forgotten and unseen, and I can see just where He showed up.
I see just how he moved.
When we were uprooted from our life back home, I asked God every day, What purpose does this serve?
My husband found out his job, which he loved and was so good at, was eliminated, and I was left asking God again, Why?
I did not feel remembered in that season.
So I clung to my faith like Hannah. I begged God to remember me as he had so many times before. I trusted He was preparing something far better and far more kingdom-worthy than what I could have ever imagined. And I wept as He pulled me in, held me tight, and reminded me He was near.
I love this simple reminder. I love the story of Hannah. I always have, but even more so at this moment.
Imagine feeling forgotten and holding onto your faith amid disappointment and heartache. Imagine believing that God would do what He said He would do, even when others scoffed.
Imagine being Hannah the moment she felt that first flutter and she knew she was with child, and imagine naming that child Samuel, which means “God answered.”
Imagine on the other side of the weeping, God standing there in the chaos of it all, grabbing your tear-stained face and saying, “Oh my child, I could never forget you!”
This—this is where I am. I am on the other side, and God was standing just where He had always been, waiting to hold my tear-stained face (my very, very tear-stained face), look me in the eye, and assure me—just like Hannah—He remembered me.
by Jenni Conrady 
by Jordan Burchette 
by Gloryanna Boge 
