Friday, February 2, 2007

Dearest God,

Early this morning I drove out into the darkness to take my husband to Wal-Mart to get an oil change. As my headlights shone on the glistening snow-covered ground, I saw tracings in the snow. An animal, four prints perfectly formed, began at the street's edge and followed along the side of the house. I had seen the same markings several days earlier. They appeared to have come from the driveway up to the bushes just below one of the bedroom windows. Same clawed tracks. Intrigued, I wondered what this furry critter looked like, whether it found shelter in the landscape. I welcomed this sign of life among the cold dead of winter.

A couple minutes later we neared our old church, celebrating new life in a new facility. Preparing for the memorial service of a beloved friend, we noticed workers in the sanctuary. I asked Harold if he minded stopping for a few minutes. I was still in my flannel Christmas jams, my coat covering my top half. I pulled up into the circle, stepped outside and bent down to see the full extent of the Ruggles organ. Blocked by the front doors, I crept closer, finally deciding that it didn't make a difference. I wanted to be in the sanctuary, to glory in this home of God's family for 18 years. I desired to experience the tracings of faith I had cherished many years ago.

We worked hard to move the church to this new site, 37.5 acres, to promote growth and visibility, to open our doors to our neighbors, to expand our ministry and preschool, to widen our thinking about what God wanted to do with us. It was difficult at times. We dodged the arrows of those who could not let go of the old building. We understood. Some had married and buried loved ones. Children and adults were baptized here, making professions of faith. Conversions, transformations, and promises were made here. Several left the church. Some were angry with us. Others were passionate about the possibilities for the future.

God has blown open the doors of the Spirit. The children's ministry, the Parents' Day Out, the Nursery School and new Kindergarten are full. Visitors flock in every Sunday. They're over 500 in worship each Sunday. Many are joining the membership. There is a new enthusiasm, a passion for reaching out, for drawing people to church. While they hold on to the memories so cherished from the past, they are welcoming the future. The lighted parking lot, with a light beaming in the tower among the dark, shadowy trees give evidence of God's presence.

There are tracings of faith on my heart, drawn by persons with whom I served for 10 years. Although some have died (Winifred, Willard, Grace, Harold, Al, Reid, Irv, Nellie, just to name a few) there are many who remain greeting newcomers, teaching Sunday School, leading small groups, singing in the choir, giving their gifts week after week. These indelible marks will forever stay with me. Like the animal tracks in the snow, these loved ones will continually feed my fledgling faith, lick my wounds, give encouraging words and witness, and burst forth agape love just when I need it. And challenge, wherever and whenever I need it.

As I returned home, the night darkness still hanging on, I smiled and gave thanks for the prints in the snow.

There are sightings of faith
all around.
The prints of God
appearing at times
in unlikely places.
We leave behind tracks
for others to follow,
remnants of a battle fought
and won by God.
Prayers earnestly prayed,
knees bent,
heads bowed,
whispering pleas.
Love shared
with waiting arms.
Light illumining
our many darknesses.
God in human form,
wearing flesh
and speaking words
of hope, comfort, peace.
Sightings,
visions of the Almighty.
Daily reminders.

Love always, Andrea