Story of the Lord

STORY OF THE LORD

The Lord came into my life in a simple way: I walked into church one day, knelt down and gave thanks. The church was quiet; sunshine flooded in through the open stained glass windows. None of the children were with me, so I had time to think. Then, I did something I’d never done before. I opened my hands, said “thank You for my life,” and listened. I didn’t realize until much later, but that was the moment when my life started falling apart. That peaceful moment, in the silence, stayed with me through everything that followed. You know how sometimes you look back at your life and certain things just stand out? Looking back, I think they have a different language in heaven. “Thank you,” translates to “I’d like some bigger challenges now, Lord.”

It was certainly a busy life: I was raising five wonderful children by myself, in an old house badly in need of repair. My husband lived and worked in Long Island and came up to see us on weekends. All of my relatives were back in California, where I was from. One friend was going through a divorce, another friend dying of cancer, and I felt lost inside, without knowing why.  In the midst of all these struggles, God called me to Himself.

In spite of some difficulties, I thought my life was finally coming together, in a way. The children were getting older. My oldest child was going into high school and my youngest children, twins, had just started nursery school. Now, I was able to find a few minutes during the week to stop in St. Ann’s and say a quick prayer. We had joined this new church a few months earlier, and I was already singing in the choir and lectoring once a month. It was an active parish, with a lot of friendly faces; they made us feel welcome.

The doors were never locked; I would kneel down, open my hands and listen. Sometimes, I remembered to pray. I always felt refreshed when I left, as if a great weight had been taken off my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how wound up I’d become, trying to hold everything together. Praying helped; but I still felt alone. I wanted more. Mass was celebrated every morning, and I started going once a week. A Bible Study group started up on Wednesdays. One of the women in the group invited me to join her for Morning Prayer on Friday mornings. I started saying the Rosary every day and that helped tremendously. I hadn’t really tried meditation before; it drew me closer to Jesus.

“Hold nothing back,” He said one morning. I was startled. The voice sounded like it was coming from my head, but it was strong, clear and confident. I didn’t sound like that. I think he wanted me to pray from my heart. “Wait, and believe in Me. Trust in My word.” What exactly was I waiting for? We started having these conversations. I would tell the Lord how mixed up my life was, how it just didn’t make sense. “It does if you listen to Me. Trust in Me. Come.” As I kept coming back to Him, I found fewer reasons to complain, and so many blessings – my sins forgiven, love shared, prayers answered.  I started asking Him to help me through my day, and He did. When my car stalled, He guided me to a mechanic who refused to charge me any labor – because mice had made a nest in my air filter, and the mechanic found that amusing. When other cars were skidding off our icy hill one winter evening, I was able to keep going. “Believe in Me,” He said. “Believe this. Keep praying.”  Then, one morning, I walked in and heard a different voice, saying my name. “Go away,” it said, “Get away from me.” In the years that followed I learned to recognize that voice; I knew that it wasn’t God’s. I kept praying. Later, I found James 4.7-8 or Luke 10.18-20 were very effective; satan just couldn’t stand up to the word of God wielded by someone who knew her power in the Lord.

A few months later, I heard the Lord say “give Me your fears. I will take them.” These words were loud and clear, calm and wonderfully reassuring. I learned to recognize His voice by what he was saying. His words were positive, often challenging, but always full of love. “Trust Me in these little things, so you will trust Me in greater things that lie ahead.” I didn’t know at the time, that was from Matthew 25.23.

Then, I got very sick one weekend, with a high fever. My energetic thirteen-year-old daughter, ran the show, fixing dinner and organizing clean-up while I stayed curled up in a rocking chair in my room, too weak to move. At one point, an angel came and stood before me, just out of sight. “Let go,” he said. His voice was gentle and full of compassion. I closed my eyes, too weak to argue. Why was I fighting it? I let go, and felt myself floating, so light, free of a tremendous burden. It was days later, when I realized what I had let go of. My marriage was gone. I asked my Lord, what I should do. “You’re doing it,” He said, “you’re living the prayer.” Then I asked Him what He wanted of me. What he said was confusing, at first. “Peace. Accept My brokenness.” It was only when a priest broke the bread at the altar, explaining that bread was broken to be shared, that I understood. The only way through my fears was to face them. I had to accept that my life was broken.

I tried to explain it to my husband, the following weekend, but he was too angry to listen. I asked for a few weeks apart, to pray and try to understand what was happening. He put up with it for exactly three weekends. Then he started yelling.  He thought it was the same old argument about living apart, which I had never accepted, from the first day he told me he was moving back in with his family, ten years earlier. “It doesn’t matter how long I have to be away. My job is in Long Island; you just have to understand that. If you don’t like living apart, find a job and a house down there, and arrange some childcare.”  Everything was my fault, as usual; I had failed to provide for him and the children. But I couldn’t go back to the way things were. I wasn’t there anymore. After a few months, he started demanding a divorce. He expected me to sell the house and give him the money, since his family had helped us with the down payment. There was no concern about how the children and I would manage. It was all about satisfying his needs, and I wasn’t doing that anymore, so I was expendable.

This went on for four years, while I kept praying for a solution. Then, he served me with papers and we went to court. He insisted the judge would give him the house. Two years later, after the judge had given me the house, and minimum child support was arranged, the divorce was final. Sadly, my oldest daughter decided to move down to Long Island with her father.

I kept going back to that rare moment of silence when I thanked the Lord for my life. Afterwards, I remembered, I had just sat there and listened; I realized I’d never stopped to thank God before. And I had certainly never taken the time to listen to what He had to say. I had talked to Him, yelled and cried at Him. I had never listened. I mean, I had five children to raise, bills to pay, a life to live. An empty life, with duties and obligations and longing for something more. Only I never sat still long enough to recognize that. 

I kept a journal from that period, until I realized I was writing the same thing over and over: I kept turning to God and saying “I need You,” then turning away and trying to do everything myself. Our deacon asked us a question one night, in Bible Study, as we were working through the book of Romans: “where are you trying to be God in your life?” I already knew the answer; everywhere. I didn’t trust God to do anything for me; I thought I had to do it all myself.

That was the beginning of my journey, to let God be God. It took me many years to learn that my greatest sins were pride and unbelief. It was humbling to realize I wasn’t in control of anything. By the same token, it was the greatest relief to realize I didn’t have to be in control.

My younger son, who could not speak, had been diagnosed with Down’s Syndrome and severe mental retardation.  He also suffered for more than ten years from constant diarrhea, rashes, cramping, bleeding, and pain, no matter how many diets we tried. A neurologist diagnosed Celiac Disease.  But I kept praying. I went to hear a preacher speak on God’s promises, at a healing service. It was a revelation: the children and I began reading the Bible out loud together every night, and asking God to heal my younger son. Three months later, he was healed of Celiac Disease and a whole host of food intolerances. Now, he could eat anything he wanted. He was delighted. He knew God had healed him and he believed, as we all did, in the power of God’s word.

God continued to speak to me, more and more. I realize people who don’t study His word and believe His promises will not believe what began to happen next. I started speaking God’s promises and seeing storms dissipate, back problems, colds healed, appliances healed – it didn’t happen every single time, but most of the time it did. As long as I remembered to put Him first and spend some time, every day, in His company: reading His word out loud, loving Him, praying to Him, teaching His word to my children, singing His praises, I was able to resist the devil and see satan flee from me and my children. It was only when I got caught up in the world that fear took over, and the devil got his way. The children and I continued reading the Bible out loud to each other every night, and we could see the patterns of faithfulness and blessing, then disobedience and curses, throughout Deuteronomy, Judges, First and Second Kings.


We still had very little money. God was still putting me to the test: did I really love Him? He was, after all, a very jealous God. He had made it clear he loved me very much. He sent me his love every day, called me into remembrance of Him and His promises, just as a lover would do. Did I love him back? Was I being faithful to Him? No one else could come first, He warned me, not my children, not anyone else. He alone demanded a greater share of my love and attention. But I was still trying to do everything my way, not His.  It was a difficult habit to break. And, He wanted something more. “Obedience is love,” He said one night.

I discovered I needed to accept Him, not only as my Savior and Healer, but as my Provider. I learned to thank Him that we were hanging on by a thread, financially. That meant I had no illusions about making it on my own. I kept Him close, thanking him that my car only started by invoking His name, we ate because He took care of us. I started reading more, and memorizing His promises; it helped me feel less alone.  When I listened to Him, I realized He was always reaching out. In Gail Godwin’s Night Prayers, she says, “The Bible is a record of a people keeping track of their relationship with God over a very long period of time. This constant accounting of yourself to an unseen other does make you change and grow.”  I started keeping a journal again, to record what He was saying to me, and realized that was what I wanted it to be: an account of my relationship with Him.

Eleven years later, I have put Jesus first in my life and he fills it with His love. It doesn’t mean my life is perfect, but I can face life without giving in to fear, because perfect love casts out fear. I had finally learned to listen, and the more I listened, the stronger His voice became in my heart.