I’ve been meaning to write this blog for three days now, and now I’ve forgotten what seemed so pressing at the time. I know I wanted to talk you y’all about God’s grace, and how often, after a struggle or mountain to climb? He rewards us in wondrous ways-but you have to be aware of what is going on around you. A good way to tune in is to pray for the Holy Spirit to guide you in all of His ways. I just plain say,
Abba, I know I’m a little slow on the uptake, so please make things clear to me.”
Actually, I used to be an incredibly oblivious person. And I must tell you that I am becoming more observant by the day. You know why? Because of QAnon. The military boards on 8 and 4 chan, Trump’s tweets and videos decoding the maestro’s genius 3D chess game is intricate. I have learned to look at the entire picture, not just what is in front of my face. It knocks me off of my feet to think of all that I have been missing all these years.
After Tom Hanks threatened me for I blog I wrote about my late friend Isaac Kappy’s death? I began all out war on the enemy. I carry, have mace and a dog. God blessed me with bionic hearing, and I am eerily aware of my surroundings. I always pray before a hike or any other outdoorsy activity. I pray the blood of Jesus wash over us and protect us. As a matter of fact, if you are ever in a situation where you feel threatened? Call out His name! He will help you, this I know for certain.
See something, say something.
I mean, after everything I have learned in the last three years?
I am just coming out of a deep depression, brought on by too much research, too much isolating and a few extenuating circumstances. One being the terminal illness my best friend is battling. He is okay with going, even eager, or so he says. A few weeks ago I thought we had said our goodbyes. He had told me that his wife, a good friend for years-was not exactly my biggest fan. In fact, he told me she wasn’t too keen on our friendship-and Scott, being a man, said this:
I don’t know what it is, but Sara and I share a special bond.
After a gut wrenching goodbye, (See Farewell My Friend, Farewell) I wept for three days straight. My heart was so grieved! Another best friend, Barb, had died from cancer 15 years ago-she wouldn’t let us near her-I am a nurturing person and I wear my heart on my sleeve. I understand why Barbie did what she did, but it left a gaping, grievous wound that resurfaces now and ag”ain. Now I wouldn’t be able to be of help to Scott, and so selfishly-I ached.
Long story short, much to my surprise, Scott phoned me yesterday. He told me he had died, but that his son and wife had brought him back. And then?
“Hey, can you pick me up three chicken thighs and a pound of butter? I’m making Fettucine Alfredo tonight…”
My heart skipped a beat! I was torn between elation and the realization that I would have to say goodbye, eventually, again. As Dwain and I pulled into the driveway, I took notice that his wife was at home.
Honey, I don’t know if I’m going to get out of the truck.
You have to know my husband, and you had to be there-but the look on his face said:
What you talkin’ about Willis? Where are your sensibilities? Have you gone mad?
And so it was that his wife and I sat and talked, outside, privately.
We worked it out, and in a loving and authentic way-no cat claws whatsoever.
I offered to help in the kennel they own. She shook her head, but offered this up:
“I could use your help with Scott in the mornings and evenings, if you could, I don’t know about your schedule, I…”
She couldn’t say anything else, I had my arms so tightly wound around her neck, by head burrowed in her long black hair, choking the life force out of her, I’m sure.
I was torn up, I can tell you that. So thankful that God had changed things around, my attitude being one of immense gratitude. We pulled into a car wash, waved down by kids with signs. As Dwain moved up to the proper spot, my eyes were drawn to a small child in a wheelchair.
I approached the family with caution, bending down to touch the little boy’s hair.
“This is Mathias, and the car wash is to raise money for his sixteenth operation,” a young man informed me.
I sat down in front of him, in utter awe of his spunk. We made quick friends, sharing blueberries and laughing out loud. Matt was four years old, and his single mother was struggling to survive after a series of complications he suffered.
“Down Syndrome,” she nodded. “I couldn’t help but notice how fond of you he is, thank you.”
And this is how God works-just when you’re thinking there’s no point in living? He will blow you away by answered prayer and abundant love~