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.
#1 by Anonymous on February 4th, 2009
Praying constantly for you. It is so hard when you are asking God for the big things, the huge things, the God sized things and he doesn’t seem to come through. The fact that you appreciate and notice, and are thankful for the “small” ways he is there for you is a huge testament to your relationship with Him. We, too, are praying for God to restore Ian here on earth. We won’t stop asking Him to reconsider this decision unless he puts a period on it. Know that you are constantly in my thoughts and prayers. Each day with your precious son is priceless, and a gift from his Creator.
#2 by Jennifer on February 4th, 2009
I wish I knew a calvary to send in. The best I can do (and continue to do) is ask everyone I know to pray for Ian and for you and Deb. It is the little things that whisper to us about the power and awesome-ness of God. Hold tight to those things…and know that no one is ceasing in their prayers for you. And the prayers are heard.
#3 by Anonymous on March 25th, 2009
I’m sorry for all of those unsensitive remarks, from well-meaning folks, who don’t know better, and don’t know what else to say and are just probably dense, or too nervous themselves to know exactly what to say,,,
We are continuously praying for you, for you both, for your mother, for your whole family,,, death leaves a hole, empty of life, but filled to overflowing with a deep sorrow,,, Jesus knew that kind of pain, to, even with His wholehearted knowledge of the full truth of eternal life with Him,,,
Words are inadequate,,, just please know that continuously and often my tears wet the computer keys, as I read what you and Deb write,, I have no real words, or prayers,,, just heart break for you