It's evening here. The cloudy days of earlier in the week have given way to sunshine and clear blue skies. Today at lunch, I set out on a walk to mail a letter at the local post office. Others set off in cars to drive-ins, or some stayed to eat in the staff lunch room. I don't mind walking by myself, I get to feel the wind in my face, enjoy the warm sun, and the visual delight of manicured yards, flowers still bright in late summer bloom. 
The houses were like friendly faces, many well-kept, pristine paint, edged walk-ways. Some were neglected, peeling paint, scraggly yards, little evidence of pride of ownership. The houses also reminded me of the clients at our treatment center. Some are bright, full of hope, eager to learn. Others, beaten by life, afraid to try. And still others, angry, bitter and ready to lash out at life and anyone who tries to get through. Often, when challenged by troubled clients I really don't know what to do. I know the textbook answers, do this, say this, but when it comes to reaching into the inner soul of men wounded by life I believe the only answer is really God. 
My hands are bound in many ways about sharing. I cannot tell my clients that Jesus Christ is the only way to God. I am bound ethically and by company policy. But, and this is important, my prayers are not bound. I can pray, I can ask others to pray. Where my wisdom falls short, where my insight fails, God's Spirit can speak to the hearts and minds of men who have reached the end of their resources, who are ready to acknowledge their need for help, who are ready to seek a relationship with a God who they have spent a long time running away from. 
And so my journey goes, spending my days trying to help dozens of men who for a brief while, stay out of jail and prisons and work on recovery. So, five days a week, the treatment center is my mission field. I like what my pastor says, "God doesn't use people based on their ability, but on their availability." So here I am, a grandmother, many times over, working with men who have made careers out of robbing, selling drugs and violence. And yet, wonder of wonder, I'm not afraid. God has given me the wonderful gift of seeing them as someones son, somebodies brother, somebodies daddy.
The men sensing my care, are for the most part very respectful towards me. They will talk about how tough they are, the crimes they've committed but when they talk to me they are gentle and kind. I have the opportunity to see them as their families have probably not seen them in many years. I like to believe that God has given me His eyes to see the potential in them, the men they can be. I don't think I'm a saint or anything like that. I am a Christian who prayed and asked God to show me His plan for my life. I asked other Christians to pray and they did, repeatedly. I discovered this profession, studied very hard and have found employment for these last five years doing what I was trained to do, all this after age 57.
God is the author of second, third..... and many more chances. He has plan A, plan B through Z. No matter where you've been, or what you've done, God can heal the hurts, bind the wounds, and give you a future you never thought you'd never have. Dare to believe, dare to seek, when you do you'll discover like me that He's been there all the time waiting to show you a future you could have never imagined doing things you thought you never could do.
God hears and answers prayers, He'll hear yours, dare to believe.
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