Waiting

May 17, 2015

“Waiting”

     It is Sunday morning here in my corner of the world, high in the Oregon hills nestled along the banks of the Columbia River. I cannot see the River from my home, but I know it’s there; the sound of the fog horns through the fog of the large ships making their way to and from the ocean let me know the River is there silently making it’s way to the sea. My bedroom window is open, the birds calling hello to the morning in the forest that reaches to touch my home with large boughs of the cedar and fir trees edging the cliff close to my home.

     In some ways, my waiting times have ended. After six long weeks of not being able to drive, medical test results flood my mailbox and phone. “You are cleared to drive, heart monitor shows no significant abnormalities.” “Lab results show no abnormalities.” “X-rays reveal no abnormalities.” “Bloodwork shows no abnormalities.” “Biopsies show no abnormalities.” The list goes on. I have been tested for many things and I am “o.k.”

     I drove to work Friday and it felt strange to not take the little rural bus and greet the regular riders and drivers. I had gotten to know them, their names, their family’s names, their joys, sorrows and challenges. I will miss them. They were what I call, ‘regular people’ without the artifice, guile and sophistication that masks many of the other people with whom I am acquainted. The ‘bus people’ were real and shared openly from their hearts not worrying about political correctness, but just real, open. I found them refreshing and also amazingly kind and considerate of me and my struggles of being tied to a heart monitor and waiting to see what in the world was wrong with me. So, after thousands of dollars worth of dozens of exams and tests, I am “ok”.

     Yesterday, Saturday I realized I could drive anywhere I wanted. I had money, vehicles, time. I did some chores, got in my rig and headed for the coast. Zooming along Hwy 30 it felt weird, the rich, lush hills and valleys, the glimpses of the Columbia River slowly edging towards the Ocean. Winding through the hills towards Astoria I flipped a mental coin, “Should I go North to Washington or head to the Northern Oregon Coast?” North it was and I drove across the mouth of the Columbia on the long expanse of bridge. The seagulls, catching the air streams of the cars zoomed low above my car, paralleling the miles of bridge across the water. As a child, ferry boats took us across this River. I can remember the excitement  brought by the building of the new bridge and how huge it appeared to my young eyes. Now, aging, it still seems a miracle of sorts as I see the eddying waters surge underneath it’s broad expanse.     

     Finally, on the Washington side I drive along the banks of the Columbia towards the ocean. Choices present themselves every few miles or so; “Should I stop and explore this historic site or this one?” “No!”  I tell myself,  ”Not today.”  I’ve been to all these sites many times in the past, they are wonderful, historic, interesting.  They offer outstanding panoramic views of ocean and River. But, I don’t feel like seeing them today. I am just driving today experiencing my freedom and coming to terms with the fact that although certainly like everyone else, I will die, it apparently is not going to be as quickly as I had thought for these last six weeks.

          I continued to drive and went to Iwaco, quaint old fishing town. Nothing beckoned me here to stop. I continued driving. I went to Long Beach and drove through the old cement archway that has proclaimed as long as I can remember, Long Beach, Washington. “The World’s Longest Beach.” I drove down and parked where I could see the surf and observe a kite club and they’re colorful kites waving proudly in the sky. I watched for a long while but did not get out to hike the beach which I normally would do, “not today” I told myself, “not today.” I tired ot watching the kites, people and waves and drove and parked near the downtown shopping. I got out and walked, watching people, looking into store and restaurant windows. I realized I could buy anything I wanted but nothing appealed to me. I walked on. I entered and went through Marsh’s free museum, picked up a trinket of two, left the store without buying anything. I didn’t need or want anything. I walked the length of shopping one way, crossed the street and walked back on the other side. A shop or two looked interesting and I browsed. I wanted nothing. Near where I parked, I went into a candy store and looked around, cases upon cases of rich, fun treats. I left with a small bag of carmel corn, enough days left to sample other treats if I wanted them.

     I decided to drive back to Oregon and visited a second hand store where I purchased a $5 turqoise vase and a T-square to replace the one someone borrowed and did not return. I  stopped at Home Depot and looked at all their plants, nothing I wanted. I went through Ross, nothing I wanted except a new dog leash to replace the four a grandson had taken for his new dog. Driving home, I looked forward to just watching TV and enjoying the quite. Six weeks of down time has turned me into a more sedentary person. Maybe tomorrow I will work on chaning that, but not today.

      During the six weeks of medical testing, I realized I was ready to die. I had reconciled myself to the fact that my body was worn out and I was facing the beginnings of disease and decay. I had started sorting out things mentally and physically to ease the burden on my family upon my decease. It’s anticlimactic in a way to say, “I’m going to live.” And in a sense, more challenging because now, given these weeks to look at my life, my work, my family, my goals, I have to answer the question, “now what?”

     Friday,   driving to work after getting the call that my heart was ok and I could drive, I came home from work and watched a Joyce Meyers special on the homeless children of Madagascar. It was a heartbreaking special with photos and stories of incomprehensible travesties of degradation and horror. The special documented the Joyce Meyers ministries partnering with others to build a ‘safe house’ were hundreds of the homeless children can come at night to escape the constant threat of rape, death or torture from the many who prey on them relentlessly. I forced myself to watch these images and asked myself the inevitable question, “What in the world am I doing to ease the pain of the millions of suffering children in the world?”The answer, painfully, is, “Not much.”   Oh I try with all my might to help the teenagers and adults I encounter in the drug and alcohol center where I work, but in many cases I can’t see that I’ve really “helped” them. I try to help my extended family whenever I can, but in most cases I can’t see that I’ve really “helped” them either. And so, now that I’m ‘going to live’ as it were for a while I’m asking myself the tough question of what in the world am I here for?

     I continue to read my Bible and pray. I am very aware that in the past, I’ve answered the question of “What am I here for?” with plans that have not worked out all that well. I’ve started huge gardens for the homeless. I’ve started a free inspirational newspaper to encourage struggling adult singles. I’ve worked in a Singles ministry trying to connect people with resources and ministries to rediscover their lives. I got training to become a drug and alcohol counselor and worked with hundreds of people struggling with addiction. I’ve raised seven children and tried to support them in school, in church in education to pursue happy and fulfilling lives. I am not sure how many of the people I tried to “help” perceive what I did as helpful to them in the long run.

     But, now at this point of my life, although so much of me wants to change some significant factors in my life, (job, home, location) I am waiting upon God. It’s surprisingly not easy for me. I am a person who has found more comfort in making to-do lists, of creating plans and objectives.  Recently a verse from Psalms has come into my mind again and again, “A person’s mind plans their way, but the Lord directs their steps.”

     I am however praying for an open door. It’s as if, facing death, being grounded as it were for six weeks has freed me from thinking I need to be tied to any conventional format. It has also cleared my mind to objectively see that not everyone in my life is all that “nice” to me. Some people are not. I also have had to accept that no amount of talking to these people is going to help these situations. For whatever reasons, they have their own agendas.  And so, I continue to pray. I’m not wild about suffering, but I continue to claim the promises of God that it is for a purpose, for my good and eventually it will end.

     This morning, my Bible opened to Isaiah to two familiar passages I love. I am going to put them here in their entirety for you to read.

Isaiah 40: 28-31

“Have you not known? Have you not heard? The everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, neither faints nor is weary. His understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the weak, and to those who have no might He increases strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall. But those who wait on the Lord, shall renew their strength; They shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.”

Isaiah 41: 10-13

“Fear not, for I am with you; Bfe not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. Yes I will help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Behold all those who were incensed against you shall be ashamed and disgraced. They shall be as nothing. And those who strive with you shall perish. You shall seek them and not find them. . Those who contended with you, those who war against you shall be as nothing as a nonexistent thing. For I, the Lord your God will hold your right hand. Saying to you, Fear not, I will help you.”

     Ok I don’t want you reading this to think I’m hoping the people who are hurting me will die. That’s not the case. I pray for them by name that God will help them. I don’t know what is going on their lives, I know they are struggling and the fact they are creating situations that are uncomfortable and painful for me I am accepting. I need to learn something, my character needs refining. Do I like this? No, I don’t but I am not going to run away, I am not going to fight. I am going to pray and wait.

     The day will come when things will change. These six, long, yes, very long weeks have helped me understand that the changes that come may look far different than I would have planned. The changes are unknown, but the God who holds my future if faithful and not one moment of unpleasant circumstance will be wasted in creating a willingness in my part to become available for the this next stage of my life and work.

This morning in one of the daily devotionals I read, Streams in the Desert, this poem was presented.

Waiting! Yes patiently waiting!

Till next steps made plain shall be;

To hear with inner hearing,

The Voice that will call for me.

Waiting! Yes hopefully waiting!

With hope that need not grow dim;

The Maker is pledged to guide me,

And my eyes are unto Him.

Waiting! Expectantly waiting!

Perhaps it may be today

The Maker will quickly open

The gate to my future way.

Waiting! Yes waiting! Still waiting!

I know, though I waited long,

That, while He withholds His purpose,

His waiting cannot be wrong.

Waiting, Yes, waiting! Still waiting!

The Master will not be late:

He knoweth that I am waiting

For Him to unlatch the gate.

J. Danson Smith

 

          To those of you reading this who are going through trials in your own lives, take hope, God is faithful, He will help you. Remember, prayer changes things, weeping may endure for a night, but joy will come in the morning!!! He has promised!!!

Take care and be blessed. Robin

Gotta do, have to get done, going to wait; moment by moment

     Sitting at home in my recliner this morning looking out the window  on a gray world; skies leaden with dull mask covering the golden sun. It is ok, I remember yesterday with its warmth, sunshine and beauty; and more importantly I believe the sun will shine again. I cannot work today, I am hurting after having an invasive biopsy and I sit waiting for my body to heal.

     My mind? Well my mind keeps spinning on gotta do’s, have to get done, must accomplish tasks that lay before me. Maybe, just maybe for today the list will be untouched and I will rest.

     Read my Bible this morning, the last few chapters of Mark. Re-reading Mark this time through I’ve began to see more clearly how many emotions Jesus had. This is impactful for me because somewhere along the line of my life I had picked up the notion Jesus was a Stoic. By that I mean he was able to observe life, people with their flaws, sins and vices and not experience the anger, hurt, and disappointment that “normal” people do. I guess I best can explain it by talking about Spock on Star Trek. (Right now I can envision some of my family reading this saying, “Good grief, now she’s really gone off the rails.”)

      Spock was half human, half alien. He could dispassionately observe a stressful situation and make a calm, collected analysis, often bugging Bones (the Dr) or the Captain. They alternately valued his analysis and despised his inability to empathize with their agonizing emotions about those same issues.  Growing up as an emotional, musical child who was, and am anything but calm, cool and collected, I somehow translated this into perceiving Jesus, as God/man as having the ability to not experience the uncomfortableness of feeling.

     Recently, asking God to continually cleanse me and allow His Spirit to teach me more about Jesus, I have come to see over and over in the Gospels that Jesus felt all kinds of emotions. Being burdened by the weight of these awareness of people and sin and suffering, He often went away by himself, or with his closest friends to the mountains or the sea or Garden to pray and gain strength. Jesus experienced anger, he experienced disappointment, he experienced compassion, he experienced despair. He was fully human and fully God. I do not understand how this is possible but I choose to believe in His deity.

     I don’t begin  to understand how my TV works, but that doesn’t stop me from believing it works, and watching it. The same is true with millions of things in our physical world. If their functioning depending on our understanding how they exist we, the world, would have spun apart eons ago. The point I’m trying to make is we have faith in so many things we don’t understand and never can. Why is it faith in Jesus is seen as being so “uncool” by so many people? Why are Christians ridiculed for their faith as needing a crutch of religion to get by in the world?

     I don’t know, but I am happy to say, I no longer care either. It’s not as important as it once was to me to be popular; to be one of the in crowd. I choose to believe.

“Faith is the substance of things hoped for the evidence of things not seen.” Hebrews 11:1

It is comforting to me to increasingly understand that Jesus, can understand me and my many emotions because Jesus experienced emotions. The same Jesus who had compassion on the hungry, the hopeless, the hurting, the helpless can have compassion on me in the middle of my pain. I don’t have to be perfect to have Him accept me. I don’t have my physical, emotional, and spiritual to-do list done for Him to love me.

 “While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

      This acceptance, this caring, this forgiveness, this cleansing is free and it’s not contingent on my goodness, my suitability, my ‘rightness” it is available to whosoever. I’m in the whosoever; me with my flaws, weaknesses, failings, and emotions can come to Jesus, just as I am and say, “Help me Jesus. I fall short of your glory and goodness. I fall short of your standard of love and forgiveness. Help me Jesus, without you I am nothing. I need your help with life, it’s a bit too much for me to deal with right now. I am weak, I need your strength. I am upset I need your peace.”

     And His promises are true, He is faithful to forgive and cleanse and He cares. Unlike a Stoic Spock, Jesus feels our sorrows, He cares about our hurts. He is omnipotent, He is omnipresent. He being God can transcend our time and our space. He can come into our hearts and lives in the middle of our pain, in the middle of our trials and offer us, His peace in the midst of the storm. His strength in the midst of weakness. His love in the midst of hurt, resentment and pain.

     And so now, I’m in the middle of my own storm of a health crisis but I know that in the middle of this, I can find His peace. I can find His strength. I honestly and truly believe that something good is going to come out of this, I’m not sure what, I’m not sure where but this one thing I know; in rough times in my life before Jesus has rescued me. He has helped me survive. He has been my provision, my provider, my friend, my comforter, my support, my shield, my righteousness, my deliverer and my Savior. He will not fail me now. Whether in life or death He will walk beside me and say, “Fear not I am with you. I will hold your right hand.” Isaiah 41:10

“Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.” Isaiah 53: 4

Look up, seek His face. He will honor your prayers for help and will help you. He has promised, and His word is good.

Need more information on how to find a new life with God? Google, In Touch Ministries with Charles Stanley


http://www.intouch.org/

Searching- Moment by moment

Once at church, a pastor had shared a story of how a shepherd takes care of his sheep. He loves the sheep and watches over them to see they are fed, get water, aren’t victims from preying animals. He takes his job seriously. Occasionally, a lamb is born that lacks the normal herding instinct. That lamb has an adventuresome nature and wanders off to explore patches of land not within the shepherd’s watchful eye. Away from the flock and the shepherd, that lamb runs the risk of being eaten by a wild animal, he is not safe.  After having retrieved the lamb from its straying several times the shepherd does something that seems cruel, he breaks one of its legs. The lamb doesn’t understand what is happening, it only knows the pain and the curtailment of his wanderings.

     Well, that pastor had told the story to illustrate the fact that sometimes Jesus, our great shepherd has to “break our leg” figuratively speaking because we are prone to wander. Well for me, I’ve been trying to get closer to God and the recent “breaking of my leg” with ill health has been puzzling to me. That ill health also came with a shocking Dr’s order to quit driving. Getting that news and adjusting to what that means in my life, well, let’s just say I’m not adjusting well to being not able to drive. I had imagined perhaps twenty years from now I’d face losing my driving privileges, certainly not now. I’m trying to find meaning in the middle of this chaos of ill health and ensuing problems. Certainly I still believe in God but, yes but, I can’t help wondering, “Is this the beginning of the end of my life? Will the kidney problems translate into having to having dialysis, or surgery? Both of my parents had kidney surgery, with the removal of one kidney. Why should I be exempt? Will the heart monitor reveal additional problems with my heart that will further curtain my physical activity? Will I need surgery? And so the questions keep coming.

     At work, I joke about wearing my  heart monitor.It's a funny thing with leads attached to your chest, a call button attached and a wireless phone that tracks your heart function. If I forget to take the "phone" part with me from one room to the next it pathetically states, "Searching, searching, cannot find pendant!" (the call button part hanging from my neck.) That  small box with a button, looks like the call alert button advertised on TV for seniors.  In the TV advertisement,  it shows a senior laying on the floor crying, “Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”  Well, in a way, I’ve fallen and I’m trying to get up. At night, the small box, blinks a blue flashing light near my face waking me up at odd moments to wonder what’s going on.Well, a lot of me is wondering what’s going on. I'm searching for meaning.  Where is God headed with all of this in my life?

     Grounded from driving, I continue to ride the small rural transit bus to work. In the early morning I walk down the hill from where I live and then wait in the cold morning air for the bus to appear. Others have joined me on this bus and share bits and pieces of how they’ve come to depend on public transport. We are travelers together in a weird happenstance of fate.

     At work, I struggle against the weakness of the kidney infection and make the calls and do the paperwork required. Yesterday, in an effort to recoup revenue I was assigned five weekly assessments for the duration of the modified schedule. Assessments involve miles of paperwork and thousands (seemingly) of questions. But, I can’t expect my work to have me there just hanging around, it is called work for a reason.

    This April weekend is supposed to be the first hot, summer-like time. My medication for the kidney infection requires I stay out of the sun. I want to cry in protest and I realize what a wimp I am. Millions of people suffer with serious health issues. Millions are hungry possibly every day of their lives. Millions suffer with addiction, mental health problems, or are homeless. Why should I faced with some health issues, (rare for me) be so weak-kneed to not just take it cheerfully? Sort of I feel like I need a stern talking to, “Why shouldn’t I be sick?” “Why should I always be in such good health while all around me people I know suffer from serious health issues?” “Why should I be immune to suffering?”

    I have been very grateful for my excellent health. I have so enjoyed the many wonderful hikes and bike rides I’ve taken these last few years. Maybe I will again be able to enjoy hiking alone in the woods or at the beach. Maybe I will get better. And if not, will I learn to be sick gracefully. Will I accept God’s providence for me as including ill health?

     One of the men I’ve met while riding the bus is younger than I am. He’s a Veteran and has shared that he’s accepted the fact that his body is in a state of decay. He admits he thought it would be longer before health related disability set in. His COPD issues caught him by surprise. Why he was still physically strong, he was still mentally alert. Having breathing issues restrict his life came as a heart-breaking, life altering shock. But he says, he has accepted it. He is trying to be thankful for what he does has and is gradually adjusting to his limitations. Most difficult he shared, was giving up his independence and facing having to ask people for help. One such pressing problem was the need for firewood getting cut for next winter. Although strong, he can’t physically keep up with the task. He hates asking anybody for help with this and is delaying for a short while the inevitable request, it is more than humbling.

     For me, weakened by my current health issues, walking to and from the bus is almost more than I can do. Coming home last night, I hiked a half mile or so to the stop. Then after spending almost an hour and half on the bus I hiked slowly up the hill I live on. Every few feet I had to stop and rest. My body aches and the coat I wore against the chill of the early morning frost seemed to be a claustrophobic garb.

But I made it home, heated up some frozen food and fell asleep watching TV.  Quality of life alert, not so good. And so, moment by moment I’m trying to figure this out.

     Update: more tests today at the Dr’s office. Shockingly, these tests were painful and left me weak and hurting. I called my youngest and she brought me home where I sit recouping. Waiting for her to buy me soda at Safeway, her four year old son said very quietly, “Gramma, sometimes when people get sick, they die. I don’t want you to die. We need to take care of you.” Ok, well that made me cry. This sweetest of small children shared with me, he doesn’t want me to die. How precious.

    Now, still resting, and still sore I sit overlooking the forested hills. It is sunny and there is a wonderful breeze blowing through the house. I cannot know what the future holds. I continue to read my Bible daily and pray. God is good and no matter what things will be ok. Not wild about suffering but oh well, I have had a long and healthy life, I have been blessed.

   And, if I’m dying from cancer or some other deadly disease, I am going to enjoy my life moment by moment, but with a heightened awareness of what pain feels like, and hopefully a more compassionate heart for others who are suffering. God is good, my joy will come in the morning, whether in this life or the next. Be blessed and seek His face.

In the valley- moment by moment

     I am here at home today, the sun is shining brightly, the birds sing joyfully in the woods outside my window as I sit resting. I have things to do at work, people I need to meet with but I sit here at home resting. It is not by my choice I am home from work, it is a must do because I am ill.

     Much to my amazement, things I care deeply about are being taken away from me one by one. Over two weeks ago all driving was removed from my life for a time. Yesterday I got word that this had been extended for another 30 days pending more test results.

   After a week or two at home I researched optional transportation routes to get to my work which is in another State. Family? Well, they have their own jobs, and own families. Bus?  Well, I live in a rural area and there is limited bus service, but there is bus service. After finding out the times and location, one early morning I gingerly walked the half mile to the bus stop and waited until a bus appeared. I got on and was informed it was going to another city.  I waited and got on the next bus, going the right direction. Again, I was the only passenger.

    It was different riding along in the small bus along the country roads. Outside, the hills and forests were still bursting forth in their spring, growth greenery. Me, clutching my purse like the proverbial “old” woman rode along to the transfer point where I was again the only passenger. A few blocks from my work I was let off and I walked into my office. I hadn’t been there in almost two weeks and it felt weird. Going through my patient files, retrieving phone messages I tried to figure out where I was in terms of paperwork, phone calls and faxes.

    As I sorted things out, I noticed I really didn’t feel all that well. I had severe kidney pain, and just an overall “not good” feeling. The day seemed to stretch out interminably and until finally seven thirty arrived. One family member had agreed to drive me home that day, since the last bus was long gone at 4 pm. Even though I had continued to feel increasingly “not good”  during the work day I had been told several times; “You have to come to the meeting tomorrow it’s very important.” So the next day, I got up, got ready and walked down the steep hill to the bus stop. The road down the hill I live on follows the path of a creek and woodlands where patches of bleeding hearts grow profusely along the pathway I walked. I reached down and touched their tender blossoms and picked one for my pocket. As a child, spring would find me tramping the woods alone to find the new bleeding hearts where I would pick bunches for my mother to put in a vase near her kitchen sink.

    On the bus ride, the driver and I talked and I learned his wife had died some time before and he had tried going to church but just didn’t fit in. I invited him to my church which coincidentally, we passed on his daily route. At work, the pain in my kidneys worsened and I did my best to listen to a myriad of agenda items for new processes, ways to improve existing processes and general program updates. Finally,  long, pro-longed questions and discussion I had to move into the hallway, I just wasn’t feeling all that well.

    A day earlier, one of my children had mentioned to me to ask my employer to adjust my schedule while I was prohibited from driving. I was worried about doing that but after briefly reviewing the ADA (American’s with Disabilities Act) I realized employers were now being directed to provide reasonable accommodations for employees who get sick while being employed. I summoned my courage and emailed Human Resources to ask for reasonable accommodations. After the meeting finally ended, the potluck completed I realized the pain was becoming unbearable and called my doctor.

    I continued to gut through my pain and completed my shorter work day and walked to the bus station. Once there I walked inside to presumably wait peaceably out of the cold for the bus to come. Well, I was wrong about the peaceable part. Through the window I could see a woman talking furiously to herself. She appeared agitated. She carried several bags and a large back pack. She continued to talk into the air and entered the bus station muttering to herself. She sat her stuff down and continued to ramble while searching through her belongings.

      “Speak to her,” came the still small voice that I know is God’s urging.  I prayed silently claiming God’s presence over her and over her obvious confusion. She shook a little, waved her hands and appeared to calm down a little. I began with general conversation.
“Kind of cold out today isn’t it?” 

She looked at me, kind of sized me up then answered, “Yes, it’s kind of cold” she answered. As she continued to look frantically through her stuff I asked her gently, “Did you lose something?”

 She answered me “Yes, that last bus driver wouldn’t wait for me and took off and I think I dropped my bus pass.”

“What does it look like?” I asked her.

She replied, “It’s blue.”

“I’ll go look,” I told her and walked outside and looked around the bus platform. The cold, chill brisk wind continued to blow trash and leaves but I could not find any blue bus pass.

I went back in and told her, “Sorry I couldn’t find your bus pass. “

She replied, “That’s ok, I found a quarter at the last bus stop.”

Two other people entered the bus station. One a young man with a dazed look about him,  the other, a taller older man who began talking with him.

“You can’t stay with me, they won’t allow it. You’ve got to come get your stuff now.” The older man said emphatically.

“I can’t”, the younger man replied dejectedly. “Just throw it away.”

The other man persisted, “No, you need your sleeping bag and the tent. Just go where I told you and you can camp out there and nobody will bother you.”

The young man replied with a tired, vacant sounding voice, “I tried to find where it was but I couldn’t find it, I was just lost.”

The older man more insistently told him once again, “You have to get your stuff today. I can’t keep it there.”

The younger man answered despondently, “I just can’t. ”

With one last, “Get your stuff!” the older man left and the younger man stared in my direction.

“I don’t have any place to live. Are you going out of town?” He asked me with an intensity of inquisitiveness that alarmed me. My mind envisioned him boarding the rural bus with me and getting off at my stop trying to follow me home.

And then, forgive me God, I lied. “No,” I answered him quietly. Looking at him I realized he was desperate and more than a little confused. I listened to him ask the woman I had been talking with earlier if she had a smoke.

Cheerfully she answered him, “Yes, I happened to find one lying on the ground and I snatched it up. I don’t smoke myself but I knew someone would want it.”

The cigarette exchanged hands and an odd conversation between the three of us ensued.

“There’s a nice shelter in Kelso” I told him. He continued to stare vacantly. “I knew someone who stayed there and they said the people were nice to them.”

The woman piped in, “Yes the people are nice there but you’ve got to watch your stuff ‘cause the people who live there will steal from you.”

Hoping to encourage the young man to seek shelter I asked the women, “Is the food good there?”

“Yes the food is good.’ She answered.

Hoping to connect him with other resources I her asked about meals at the Broadway House, (another local homeless shelter where I had volunteered once serving meals.)

“Oh that place has changed,” the woman answered. “Now they won’t let anybody eat there unless you live there. Ever since the new guy took over they don’t help the homeless as much anymore.”

“What about the Salvation Army?” I asked. “Don’t they still serve meals?”

“Yes,” she replied, “But only Monday through Friday. On the weekends a church in Kelso has the Urban café where you can get some food.”

The young man continued to watch us, listening. He looked at my purse then at me. “Great,” I thought, “Here I am an old woman with a purse. Why don’t I just make myself a bigger target?”

       The door swung open and two men came lumbering in. The one man talked gently to the other who was swaying back and forth, unable to walk a straight line. They moved towards the row of seats where I was sitting and the drunk man fell down a few feet from where I sat. He struggled to rise up again and I moved before he could fall across my lap. Inside the glass walled window, the bus station assistants didn’t bat an eye or pay any attention, apparently this kind of thing was old hat to them. I said goodbye to the woman and man and moved quickly outside. It was getting too chaotic for me and I was beginning to feel unsafe.

     Outside, the cold, crisp wind blew into my face as I waited for the small shuttle bus that would take me home. I thought to myself as I waited, “How funny it is that I would be reading the Gospels, (Matthew, Mark, Luke and John) and trying to find the heart of Jesus and then be exposed to this real reality of suffering and pain of homeless people living in the heart of the city right next to where I work.

“God,” I silently prayer, “What are you trying to show me?”

     As I waited, it crossed my mind that God was trying to give me a wake up call of sorts about what I was really doing with my life. On the surface, being a drug and alcohol counselor sounds like a noble cause.  You’re helping people who have horrible, life impacting addictions. Well, that’s the idealist viewpoint. In reality, I can’t talk about God. I can’t share the message of hope in Jesus, and other than give them lists of resources, or a referral to mental health services, I can’t do much except listen and educate. How much am I really helping to lift the overwhelming burdens people have?  Is there something else I could be doing that would do more to really help people?

     One thing that is becoming increasingly real to me as I read and re-read the Gospels is the awareness of how often Jesus felt compassion for suffering people. There are many accounts where Jesus was with people and was moved with compassion. He ministered spiritually and He ministered physically. Increasingly I’m beginning to believe that the church and I individually should be doing more to impact the suffering people are experiencing in the real world. My hobbies, my interests although good in themselves have distracted me from a more noble purpose.

 In Isaiah 58:6-8, we are told to:

“Loose the bonds of wickedness, undo the heavy burdens, let the oppressed go free, break every yoke. Share your bread with the hungry, bring to your house the poor who are cast out; when you see the naked, that you cover him, and don’t hide yourself from your own family.”  There is a current song I love with the refrain, There is power in the name of Jesus, Break every chain, break every chain, break every chain.”  That phrase has so much meaning on so many levels.  “Where in this picture am I?” I wonder to myself. “I’m barely making a dent in all this sea of need.”

     At church last Sunday evening our pastor had shared that he felt God was impressing on him that one of us there was going to have a ministry outside of the church sphere, that we would go physically away from the area. When the pastor said that, I thought to myself, “It’s me. I know it’s me.   I don’t know how, and I don’t know where but I believe it’s me that’s going away.”

    So here I am a day or so later, wearing a heart monitor,  kidneys hurting, on medication to try to help that prohibit me going in the sun. I am feeling dizzy on and off and have to press my “event” heart monitor and label the symptoms. I don’t sound much like a candidate to go somewhere and minister. I can’t even leave my own house. Right now, it doesn’t even look like I can function normally much less be called to a mission/ministry somewhere to help hurting people.

Never-the-less God, is the Lord of the harvest.  He is the God that heals the broken-hearted. He is the God of the impossible made possible. Just because it looks like I am the last person on the list of who’s who to help the helpless doesn’t mean God can’t change my circumstances. If this impression I’m having that I will go away an work in a ministry helping people is just that an impression, I won’t be going anywhere to help anybody. If it’s God will and His calling, things will change, I will change and circumstances will change. He will make a way where there is no way.

Well, I will continue to share with you what happens on my continuing adventure of, moment by moment. Let’s discover together what God leads me through or to.

In your own life, may God grant you comfort and wisdom to discover His continuing will and way for your own life.

5 Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus:

6 Who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God:

7 But made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men:

8 And being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Philippians 2:5-11