Wednesday, January 10, 2007

Dearest God,

I think the miracle is unfolding. For Christmas I gave my husband a five day writers retreat in New Mexico. Suffering from writers block for two and a half years, I thought this gift could give him the boost that he needed.

It was about the second week in December when a piece of mail arrived at our home. Sent by the Mandala Center, a place I had hoped to visit during my renewal but was not able to do so, I had never received anything from them before. A year following my renewal, I thought it strange that I would receive a communique from them. I opened the cover and my eyes fell upon a Winter Writers Retreat. Since I had been pondering what to give my husband for Christmas, this seemed the perfect gift, a "God" gift, one that God had presented. With less than a month before the retreat with only seven participants, I knew it would be a long shot. But I also knew that God had revealed this special event and if God had a plan for my husband, then a spot would be open for him. Sure enough, I called and there was a place. I sent the fee, rustled up 100 people whose names I could include on the gift card as a way to affirm his ability and show their love. On December 25 "we" gave Harold his gift. He cried because I also included a few days in El Paso, Texas where he spent a year when he was 10 years old just before his father died of tuberculosis.

He flew out this week. He was pretty nervous driving from Albuquerque to the remote northeast corner of New Mexico. He called me once and he was feeling pretty anxious. The roads were snowy. The distance between cities was long and he was unfamiliar with the terrain and rented car. Besides all that he went from 4900 feet above sea level to 7000 feet in the mountains. When he called me about 7:00 p.m. he was hysterical, sobbing. I was scared to death. I thought he had fallen off a mountain, had an accident or was lost on some dirt road, cold and unsafe. It was none of these, thank God. He was extremely weary, worn out from the drive and little sleep the night before and the worse part was that he had picked up someone else's suitcase from the baggage area. Six hours of hard driving, he had no clothing, no toilet articles, just some books and medicine and another man's luggage. He felt trapped on top of the mountain and it was dark and very cold. He wanted to fly home right away.

In the midst of it all, I had a real peace in my heart. From the beginning I knew God wanted to give Harold this unique gift. I knew there was something special for him. I was certain that this was the site of God's movement in Harold's life. I didn't know how, when or where. I just felt it. When Harold was distressed, I tried to tell him that God had a plan for him, that something good would happen. By the end of the evening I had talked with the people in the baggage department in the Albuquerque airport and the manager at the retreat center. They were all doing what they could to help. But it was too late, dark and dangerous and way too far to start back at night. I told him I would pray.

This morning I spoke with him. There was no way around it. He had to return to Albuquerque. The man wanted his luggage and Harold needed his. He started out about 9:30 a.m. just after breakfast. He was better, but still somewhat discouraged. When he arrived at the airport, the baggage lady was so nice to him. She must have taken a liking to Harold. She thanked him for returning the bag, then gave him a $50 gift certificate to be used on another Southwest flight and a luxury room at the Wyndham Hotel. Once in the room he called me. "You were right; something good has come out of this."

He began to tell me all kinds of things, people he had met on the plane and at the retreat center, a piece of wisdom from the retreat leader about his book project, and the helpfulness of Southwest Airlines personnel.

But more than all that, it was what he said next that thrilled my heart. "Last night when I was so undone, I went to my room and wrote the story of how I sabotaged my own retreat." He hadn't even realized the significance of his own words. For the longest time he came up with multiple excuses why he couldn't write. He needed this or that. He couldn't write when... He had to be this way or that. But on top of a cold mountain in New Mexico where darkness surrounded him, he sat down and wrote, his pen producing words on a paper. The block was broken, light entered and his hand was liberated.

I was so happy when I listened to his story. I was glad for him. I had told him just days before he left that if he felt too much pressure to write, he could cancel the retreat and that it would be okay. But he went, fulfilling God's plan. I don't know what more will happen but if nothing more takes place, then he's already received so much.

I believe that it is true...the closer we come to darkness, the greater the light will shine. And God will be revealed in one way or another. To witness God's hand, to see his footprint delights the soul, a reminder that God is present. We are not ultimately lost; we just lose our way. And God appears with a sign saying "home this way."

You held my husband
on a treacherous road
in the West.
You guided him
along the way.
You kept him safe.
You freed his hand.
You poured out your love.
You gave him
a place to stay
tonight
and the desire
to return tomorrow.
You are the God
of miracles,
taking downtrodden souls
to the pit
and returning them
to the light.
You are the God
of miracles.

I shall always be grateful, Andrea