You Know Not What You Ask

You know not what you ask. Can you drink the chalice that I shall drink? They say to him: We can.

Matthew 20:22

 The sun rose with all the splendor of a sunset. Simultaneously, a full moon, huge, golden, sank behind the western mountains. The scene reminded me of A Letter From a Friend.

I am writing to say how much I care for you. I want you to know me better. When you awoke this morning, I exploded a brilliant sunrise through your window, hoping to get your attention. But you didn’t even notice. Later you were walking with friends; I bathed you in warm sunshine and perfumed the air with flowers. Still you did not notice me. So I shouted to you in a thunderstorm and painted a beautiful rainbow. You didn’t even look! Tonight I spilled moonlight on your face and sent a cool breeze to refresh you. As you slept, I watched over you and shared your thoughts, but you were unaware of my presence. I hope you will talk to me soon. When you are ready, I will be near. I love you very much. You’re Friend, Jesus.  (Author Unknown) 

I asked to be His witness, but I did not fully understand what I was asking.

Shortly afterward my husband passed away, followed by financial disasters and health issues. Three years later I remarried. Four months after the wedding I was a widow again. The cartilage in my thumbs disintegrated, leaving bone grinding on bone. Unfortunately, the nerves were still intact. I couldn't hold a spoon or fork. Buttons were impossible. Forget the pantyhose. The doctors said I was too young for replacement surgery and I would just have to live with it.

And yet, He spoke tenderly through Scripture, dreams and premonitions. He sent rainbows, lilies, and other symbols as reminders of His love, compassion and promises.  Occasionally a last minute miracle spared additional suffering. I married again with God's promise of years together in health. My finances improved. I was finally eligible for replacement surgery. Then, things spiralled downward, then up and then down again. God sent more rainbows and lilies.

And so, I tell stories to anyone who will listen: here, at work, on the bus and at home. Each re-telling affirms my own faith.  I worry less and pray more. The cup is less bitter, and someday, when I can relinquish all desire for control, the chalice will be sweeter and life will hold more joy than sorrow,  because we know that to them that love God, all things work together unto good, to such as, according to his purpose, are called to be saints.    Romans 8:28