By the end of the day I
had almost convinced myself that, what I first saw as a premonition, was actually
a lesson on the importance of approaching God with,
not careless questions, but respect and awe brought on by the humility of knowing
that He is God and I am not.
It was a certainty that
proved short lived, however, when I went to pick up Hollie from
Sunday School the next morning and another little first grader wrapped his arms so tightly around my
waist that I couldn't take a step without tipping
both of us over.
Just stand still, I told myself, hoping the boy wouldn't be embarrassed when he realized that he was hugging a stranger.
To my surprise, the child
grinned even wider when he looked up and saw
me smiling down at him.
"Do you know me?" I asked,
fairly certain that he did not.
The boy nodded and
continued to smile.
Because we were new to the church
and twenty-thousand people attended services each weekend, I was certain that this boy and I had
never met before. The only question in my mind was: How could I convince him?
"Where do you live?" I asked
"Carol Stream," he answered.
"I don't know anyone from Carol Stream," I
explained.
"Sure you do," he answered, "You met my dad and I
at a single's event."
His words put my internal
warning system on full alert. It was like I was on an episode of America's
Not-So-Funniest Videos, about to take first place.
I wanted to
ignore what was happening but the boy made it impossible to do so. Instead, I
answered
gently, "I've never been to a single's event."
Unconvinced, the boy continued to hug me and I looked around
for assistance.
Almost on queue, a church
volunteer stepped forward and gently pulled the little boy toward her until his grip on my
waist loosened.
"Come on," she said sweetly, "Let's get you back to
your group."
I watched as the woman led
him away. When I couldn't bear to see his sad face any longer, I called out, "Thanks for the hug!"
That night, I was in a more somber mood as Bill
prepared to leave for a three-night business trip to Grand Rapids, Michigan.
There was no joking about his not coming home because I knew now, more than
ever, that it was always a possibility.
As much as I wanted Bill to stay, I
knew I had to let him
go. God's will is not mine to demand or deny. It just is.
"Girls, come tell your Dad goodbye," I called from
the bottom of the steps, wanting to make sure they had a chance to see him off. A few minutes later, I
stood by the living room window and watched as Bill backed
out of the driveway.
I should have been an emotional mess as
he disappeared down the street. Instead, I
followed the advice of Jesus when he said in Matthew 6:27,
"Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?"
It was this verse that
carried me through the rest of the night as I got the girls ready for bed and
waited for Bill to call. When I realized that it was thirty minutes after the time he should have arrived in Grand
Rapids, I reached for my cell phone
to dial his.
One ring.
Two rings.
Finally, an
answer.
"We're just getting into Grand Rapids," Bill said
to my relief,
"I'll call you after I've checked into our hotel."
More
wonderful than hearing his voice, was seeing first hand that, when we place the
people we care most about in God's hands, he takes better care of them than
we ever could.
Bill called at 11 p.m. that night to state that he had arrived at his hotel
safely despite some bad weather along the way.
Maybe that's all any of us can hope for. I
decided as I hung up the phone. A safe arrival despite some undesirable
conditions along the way.
I wonder if that's what
Jesus meant when he said, "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for
tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."[3]
Each
day does have enough trouble of its own. I decided as I
turned out the lights and headed upstairs to bed, secure in
the knowledge that, while God's will is not ours to demand
or deny, it is ours to pray for and pursue as we stop
worrying about the future and start living in the moment
where God will lead us to our purpose, one day at a time.
A
Quote
to Grow On
