Monthly Archives: April 2011

Waiting

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Today I spent nearly three hours standing in line at an office that was trying to service too many people. We waited in single file along the wall of a long, narrow corridor, hoping to be heard.

When I arrived, I asked another line-stander how long he’d been there. “Two hours so far,” he said.

The young student in front of me was a guy I’d seen 24 floors down at the lobby security check. I’d been ahead of him in that line, but somehow he’d gotten to the new line ahead of me. I berated myself for wasting 30 seconds finding the right elevator.

So we waited. A man with a cane (complaining loudly) was finally given a chair, but a second complainer was told to sit on the floor.

When a man arrived with a little girl Skylar’s age, I knew they’d never make it. She’d brought a pink back-pack full of activities, and he’d filled his pocket with candy. But after 90 minutes they’d run through their entertainment and gave up, ducking under the ribbon “fence” and heading home.

Although it was frustrating to wait in my poorly chosen shoes, the people-watching was fascinating. Each new arrival began by asking the official at the head of the line, “Where do I go to talk to someone about my problem?”

And to each person he’d say, “Get in line,” while pointing a finger in our direction. Mouths dropped open and objections were made. “I’ve got to get this done on my lunch hour!” (Chuckle, chuckle and another point to the end of the line.)

Or, “This is my day off. If I don’t get it done today, I’ll have to wait a whole week!” (Chuckle, point.)

When the clock inched toward closing time, the representative arrived to knock off most of the waiting line. “We won’t get to any of you people today,” she said, sweeping her hand over most of those waiting. Their groans rose up in unison.

I was third-to-last, grateful I could continue to wait. Sadly, at the end of the meeting, my advisor couldn’t help except to suggest several other offices with new lines to stand in.

Today’s waiting ordeal was a perfect picture of why we have trouble waiting on God. Just as the authorities wouldn’t let us even look into the room where we hoped to go, God doesn’t let us see our future or the details of how our prayers will be answered. And just as we had no idea how long our wait would be, the Lord doesn’t clue us into how long our troubles will last. And just as the office personnel had all the power today and we had none, God is sovereign over the events of our lives. And just as we grew uncomfortable as the hours passed, waiting for the Lord can become downright painful.

When the waiting ordeal was over and I finally got back to my car, I vented to Jack, who had been waiting, too. He wagged his tail as if to say, “Welcome to my world.”

“Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!” (Psalm 27:14)

 

Giving Her All, Part 2 of 2

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After the elderly stranger fell face-down into deep creek water, Mary and I ran to help. But as we arrived, her head lifted above the water, and she began crawling with her heavy garbage bags to the opposite bank.

“Are you all right?” Mary shouted.

“Fine,” she said. “I just need to drip dry.”

Jack had followed her into the water, and when she saw him, she talked to him. “Hey! Get my rake, and bring it to me!” She had dropped the rake during her dunking.

I pulled off my shoes and socks, rolled my pants and crossed the frigid, fast-flowing creek, fishing out her rake on the way. Again she refused my help with her bags, but as she stood, wet from head to toe, she began to talk.

“Many people have been mean to me, from when I was a little girl” she said. “My parents locked me in a room to keep me from hugging Charlie the horse. They were worried I’d get kicked.”

She told stories of her husband and son, both deceased, but assured me they were caring for her from the hereafter, sending signals when they were near her. She described a babysitting job when the doorbell had rung twice, but there was no doorbell. “That,” she said, “was my husband and son.”

“I’m 76 years old now,” she concluded, “and God has always watched out for me.”

She said she lived six miles from the lake and was planning to walk home after she’d stowed her gear. “Six miles?” I said, alarmed, worrying about her being soaked and cold.

“It’s good to keep moving,” she said. “Besides, I’ve had the pneumonia shot, so I can’t catch that.”

As she bent down for her water-logged garbage bags, I reached for one of them, but she wrestled it away. “No. I’ll do this,” she said. Mary, on the other side of the creek (taking phone pictures) worried she might strike me.

Before she left, I asked her name. “Thelma,” she said.

As she shuffled toward the dune, Mary and I bolted for home, hoping to quickly drive back with dry clothes, a bit of food and a six mile lift. When we returned, we walked the dunes, checked the yards and drove the streets. But she had vanished.

Both of us were disturbed for hours after our encounter, wondering what to do or think. We agreed she was an excellent example of perseverance, but toward what end? Scripture praises perseverance, but only when the object of our quest is a worthy one: godly character, or the Lord’s calling, or holy living.

Some people show determination, but not toward wise behavior. Instead they persevere in disobeying God or trying to live independently of him, or they show determination in giving in to sin. That kind of perseverance is rebellion. In Thelma’s case, she had the right idea, but the wrong goal. Working hard is a virtue, but risking drowning for the sake of two garbage bags full of leaves is foolishness.

So how do we know if we’re persevering after a worthwhile cause?

“The one who looks into the perfect law [God’s Word], the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing.” (James 1:25)

Giving Her All, Part 1 of 2

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Two days ago, Mary and I took the dogs to the beach as usual. It was a chilly, overcast day in the 40’s, and we were bundled in fleece jackets, long pants, socks and shoes. I had a down vest on, too, but was still cold. The stoning was good, though, and as the dogs romped, we walked the water line looking for treasures left by winter storms.

Suddenly, without our notice, an elderly woman appeared right in front of us, startling both of us. We’d never seen her before, and she presented a peculiar picture in a long winter coat, babushka and tennis shoes, dragging two half-full, black garbage bags along the sand, as well as a white plastic bag filled with paper trash. Though her steps were small and slow, she was bent with determination.

Because she walked directly up to us I said, “We’re collecting stones. What are you collecting?”

Without pausing as she passed she said, “Raked leaves. It’s easier to drag them on the sand than on the road.”

“Where did the leaves come from?” I said.

“My last job.”

“Where was that?”

“Up there,” she said, nodding toward the houses on the dune.

We walked alongside her, fascinated. “Where are you taking them?” Mary said.

“I’m going to stow my gear at my next job.”

“Where’s that?”

“Down that way,” she said, tipping her head toward the creek.

We reached for the heavy bags saying, “Let us help you.” But she yanked them toward herself saying, “No.” How could this woman, in her 70’s, be employed to rake leaves and dispose of them? It didn’t make sense.

Mary said, “You won’t be able to cross the creek today. It’s too wide and is over your knees. You’ll get your shoes and pants wet.”

The woman kept trudging along. “My feet are hot and could use a cooling off.”

She made it clear she didn’t want our help, so we found a spot to sit, waiting to see what would happen. Suddenly she dropped her bags and said, “I forgot my rake.”

Turning around, she slowly walked back the way she came, traveling the length of two football fields before disappearing in the bluff grasses. “I’ll bet she won’t be back for her garbage,” I said.

But 15 minutes later we saw her dark form reappear, heading our way. Sure enough, she was dragging an ancient rake with claw-like tines. When she reached her bags, she gathered them up with difficulty after adding the rake to her burdens,  and resumed her steady march toward the creek. As she approached the rushing water, she paused, struggled to raise her bags up high, then stepped in, shoes and all.

Half way across she stumbled and fell face-first into the water. All but the top of her rounded back went under, and she didn’t move.

(…continued tomorrow)

“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” (Hebrews 13:2)