Nov
8
2017
Pulling Back The Curtain
Posted in Prayer 4 Comments
Sometimes ordinary days and routine activities become extraordinary.
You never know when a moment matters.
Not only when the moment matters but when it matters a great deal.
Day in and day out we walk this earth with others.
We pass people on the street.
We stand behind others in line.
We live on the same street as our neighbors.
We see people as we go about our routines each day.
How much do we know about them?
Do we take the time?
Are we too busy?
Do we even notice?
It was Election Day, a day to go to the polls and vote.
I have voted every year since I was old enough to vote.
It is a privilege that I do not take lightly.
It matters to choose our leaders, especially now when things seem so confusing.
It looked like it was going to rain.
I had errands to do.
I hoped that the rain would hold off until I was finished all the things on my list.
It was gray and cloudy, which only made the colors of the leaves that more brilliant.
I got out of my car in the parking lot of the school that is my polling place.
I had papers in my hand, which were marked with notations.
I fumbled to put my keys in the pocket of my jacket.
I put my purse over my shoulder.
I saw her.
She was pressed against the corner of the school building.
She looked like she was crying.
She was so tucked into the corner, it would have been easy to pass right by her.
Are you OK? I asked her.
Yes, I’m fine, she said as she wiped her eyes.
Are you OK? I asked again.
No! She answered with more words to follow.
I was not ready for the words that followed.
My son died a year ago; he went to this school, she said between her tears.
It’s just very hard to be back in this building, she admitted with such vulnerability.
I just hugged her; all I could do was hug her.
She did not let go.
She cried on my shoulder a bit.
When it was time to pull away, I knew there was one more thing to do.
I prayed.
I do not even know what I said to her.
Perhaps it was with her.
Maybe it was over her.
I just know that my feeble prayer went from my heart to the Father’s ears.
I had no idea if the woman had voted yet.
I had no idea if she might need some help.
Did you already go inside? I asked.
I voted, she said, I’m just waiting for my husband.
It was a moment that had to end but I did not want it to end.
It was a God ordained moment.
It was a moment when two lives crossed because of God’s sovereign plan.
It was a moment that was not to be filled with words.
I care, I said as I went inside.
I did not know how I would have the ability to cast my vote.
I did not know how I would be able to concentrate on driving after that encounter.
The things on my list seemed terribly unimportant
As I got behind the voting machine, I looked out the window towards the parking lot.
I did not see the precious woman.
I had no idea of her name.
I had no idea who her husband might have been.
All I could do was pray for her as I finished my one errand.
I could not get her out of my mind.
I hope to find her again.
I would like to check in with her and be available to her.
When Job’s three friends, Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite and Zophar the Naamathite, heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him. When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was. (Job 2: 11-13)
Compassionate silence.
When Job’s friends sat with him for seven days without saying a word, they were a blessing.
We try to fill the awkwardness with words that, though well meaning, seem shallow.
It is hard to share in the grief of another; however, it is right and sometimes necessary.
In those moments, we are truly Christ’s hands and feet.
Through the Holy Spirit, we are ambassadors of the Lord Jesus.
We are the ones who are physically there.
We are the ones with skin on.
Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about. (Toby Mac)
We do not know the stories of everyone we meet.
We do not know their struggles.
We have no idea of the sadness some people carry around in their heart.
We walk on this earth with others and we have no idea.
However, once in a while, God pulls back the curtain.
God allows us to see a glimpse of the pain of another.
May we pray that we are never too busy to notice.
May we be ready and willing to be used by God in those moments.
Pain is real but so is hope. (Toby Mac)
I would love the opportunity to speak Hope to that precious woman.
I would love to bring her to the Throne of grace with confidence.
Until I ever meet her again, I will be praying.
The Lord Jesus that brought us together, can bring us together again.
I do not know who it was but will pray for her also. Thank you for sharing this.
Thank you, Karen!
That is exactly what I hoped when I wrote this.
I pray that we will all lift this precious woman up in prayer to the Father.
Gina
Wow that had me choked up Gina
Thanks for writing about your experience. Gave me lots to think about!
Jen,
The brief moment gave me quite a lot to think about as well.
Blessings
Gina