No Ship Coming In (Graces and Mercies)

We've all seen it: At the climax of a movie, when everything seems hopeless, the heroes are rescued in a big, big way. At the end of Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers*, when the heroes are completely hemmed in by the forces of Isengard (the bad guys), Gandalf shows up at dawn with the Riders of Rohan to defeat the enemies (it's the Middle Earth equivalent of the cavalry riding in to save the day, only much cooler). In Raiders of the Lost Ark, wrath of God saves Indy and Marion from certain execution. When all hope seems lost, and the stakes are the highest, there's part of us that believes the rescue should be huge and grand, completely eclipsing whatever was threatening us.

That's what I keep waiting and praying for. I want the supernatural equivalent of a battleship group to show up. Something big, wiping away any doubt of the source of healing. But that hasn't happened, yet. What I'm getting is more like oxygen. God's grace seems to be surrounding us, sustaining us...but it hasn't delivered us at this point.

I'm quick to forget the multitude of small miracles in my expectation of the big one. It seems like
our Lord is showing up on a daily basis, and many times I don't bother to say "thank you" for the little things, or at least not acknowledge them enough.

Case in point: yesterday, we met with Ian's hospice team. Instead of one difficult topic, we got a whole parcel of them. This was an exhausting time, both emotionally and physically (outings are becoming increasingly difficult). Afterwards, we were tired, hungry and in desparate need of a change of mood. So, Ian and I made the decision that we were going to Red Lobster for supper. After we ordered, the manager informed us that someone, who wished to remain anonymous, paid for our meal. Very unexpected, and considering that there were four of us, not insubstantial. If, by some chance, you were the anonymous benefactor, please accept our heartfelt thanks.

And blessings like the one described above happen with regularity. We don't expect them, and I pray that we never do. I still pray for the big miracle, the healing that will silence my doubts about God's love and power. But, like mortar that holds together a building made of bricks, what if God's grace instead is dispensed freely, filling in our myriad of cracks and holding us together? Does that make it any less miraculous?


*The second in the trilogy of Best Movies Ever. I'm sorry, it's my blog, there's no debate.