On the other side of that

A dear friend is emerging from a long and rocky place in her life, a tough road where things appeared unnecessarily hard, opportunities unraveled before her, details didn't work out as expected, and most of the time, there was nothing, absolutely nothing, many of us could do but pray.

And we did.  This patchwork group of praying women, not knowing the outcome, not even knowing the next step.  But we prayed.  We prayed a lot.  And God would remind me from time to time, "The prayer of the righteous has great power in its effect." (James 5. 16)

Even in what appears impossible..."there is a gut deep, intuitive refusal to accept the odds or to calculate too closely either the limits of the possible or the sneakiness of grace...[Prayer opens] the one who prays to broader dimensions of reality than he or she may have entertained before.  Once that happens, there can never again be quite an end of it.  Some part of us is taken captive or set free, and that shift changes the world a little...what might be changed in the world beyond us, what might be gracefully released in it by our prayers."  (Guerrillas of Grace:  Prayers for the Battle, Ted Loder)

Would life always be so hard for her?

But this group women kept praying -- praying for others, praying for each other -- knowing that each one of us had seen too much to question God in this. Even in this. It was not that God would not answer, but how.

God was working mightily.  We just couldn't yet see His handiwork in the midst of it, each mysterious stitch, each confusing turn in the road, even in what appeared as dead ends or deepest disappointments.  And even then, "God engineers the circumstances." (Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest)

And suddenly, she emerged on the other side of that canyon, all those "misaligned" details converged -- the way only God can -- turning a desert place into pools of water, a long drought into a grove of enormous deeply rooted trees, God's faithfulness visibly before each one of us.

"...when you least expect it,
you see a crack open
and a different city appears."

          Invisible Cities, Italo Calvino

God always answers, not in our timing, nor in our ways, but always in the unexpected revealing of His Presence and power.  It is not that God "shows up," but He is already here.  We are just catching up to Him, not the other way around.

As I ran through the forest a couple of days ago, overcome by God's beauty and the working of His mighty ways in this woman's life, I thought to myself:  "And if you knew the outcome, would you have worried as much?"

And immediately, God whispered to me:  "And if you did know, would you have prayed as much?"

Prayer is not the least I can do.
It is absolutely the most vital of all.

First response,
            not last resort.

What I have

My widowed grandmother came to live with my family before I was born.  Indeed, she had already been widowed for twelve tough years, working incredibly hard as a single mom to literally keep bread on the table. 

Those visible needs stirred up not despair, but immense currents of creativity in her.  I can remember many times as a young girl my grandmother taking what little she found in the fridge and a few cans from the pantry and serving a wonderful meal to unexpected --and unsuspecting --guests.

With her, it was never "I don't have enough,"  or "I can't afford that," but "what else can I do with that? How can I make it work?"  whether the fine art of creating casseroles or re-purposing worn out and outgrown clothing.  She did not just recognize need, but opportunity.  She knew how to respond to it, because she had already navigated a lot deeper turbulent waters than what was before her.

She was not paralyzed by what she did not have, but stirred to life by what she did.

When she came to live with us, she had virtually nothing monetarily to live on, she struggled daily with the deep physical pain of rheumatoid arthritis, but oh, what a blessing she brought to each of us.  What I remember most about her were her gifts of time and kindness.  As busy as she was, no matter how busy she was, even in the middle of some task, she set things aside to listen and respond.  She did not have money to lavish on the four kids in our family, but she had time -- she made time -- and always boatloads of kind and loving words.  She was available, not because she had nothing better to do, but because she knew the deep and enduring significance of being ready and present.

It has been so many incredible decades ago, but I can still hear her voice responding to me, "Well, darling, sometimes you just have to trust the LORD about that."  And over the years, how many times that truth has come almost audibly to the surface of my thoughts in times of need.  I witnessed the faithfulness of God lived out in her quiet selfless life.

Whereas all other childhood things and toys have been discarded or fallen apart, her gift of time and loving words continue to resonate in my life.   Her life was largely invisible to the outside world, but she invested generously in the relationships around her, no matter who it was.

Even confined to the house, she had a box of cards to send out an encouragement when she heard about someone struggling.  I think about how much she would have taken advantage of texting sunshine to others at a moment's notice. 

"I cannot do everything, but I can do something," says author Steven Garber in his book Visions of Vocation.

And indeed, she did.  On so many levels.  In word and deed and countless prayers.

What is on my radar today,
who has God placed on my heart,
       what can I do?

But Peter said,
"I have no silver and gold,
but I give you what I have;
in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth,
                           walk."

                                   Acts 3. 6

The unexpected and proximate
     is sometimes the most profound.