The Dr’s voice faded as I tried to block out the words, “congestive heart failure".He was diagnosing my father.This man had been robust, a workaholic, never tiring in my eyes.But now, at age 83, he seemed frail.Lately I had spent more and more time encouraging him to keep on keeping on, encouraging him to shoot for age 100.
I hid my saddened heart with small talk as we made the trip back to Mom’s and Dad’s place.It was early afternoon when I dropped them off, then turned toward my home not far away. As I closed the door behind me, I couldn't hold back the tears.It was overwhelming to think that sometime in the future I would no longer have my parents.
I was brought back to reality as the phone rang loudly.“Mom,” my son’s voice sounded a bit strained.“I need for you to pray for me today.I don’t know what’s wrong.I’m on my way to work, but I woke up so dizzy this morning.I know if you are praying, I’ll be all right.”
Panic struck.My son was 400 miles away.There was nothing tangible I could do.“Steve, promise you will see a doctor if you are not better in a few hours.”
“I trust your prayers, Mom.I will be o.k.”Hanging up, I knelt beside the sofa. I prayed God would give Steve physical strength and protection in the traffic and that He would keep him alert and make him well.
The phone once again interrupted the day. The voice of a close friend had lost hope. " Ted and I are not going to make it. I’m leaving this afternoon for Atlanta. I need some time away. Ted will stay behind until we decide what we are going to do.”
I knew Vicki's problems were not only marital.She and I had often spoken of our insecurities and lack of self esteem.After many years of troubled days and night and much praying, I finally came to the place of relinquishing “self” and giving God first place in my life.Vicki was searching for the same peace.I walked outside to gain composure from the day’s hard truths.
The sun was setting over the tree tops, making a sky of brilliant oranges and pinks.Over my shoulder I could see the beautiful sunflowers my husband had planted for me. Little orphan Callie, a kitten we had found a few weeks earlier, rubbed against my leg, asking to be stroked.A couple of robins were perched on the back of my chair.I stood for a moment soaking up the warm late summer sun, my thoughts turned again to the problems of the day.I thought about my limitations in each situation.Despair slowly crept in as I sat for an hour or more rehashing each situation. These problems crowded in with others that had dominated my thought life for a while now.
I walked over to the sunflowers, touching the pedals of the yellow and brown array.Then God so graciously placed in my heart a phrase from the bible, “sacrifice of praise”.A prayer of thanksgiving now, when there was turmoil in my mind, would certainly be a sacrifice.Is that what God meant by that phrase?Ah, God was teaching me in the quiet of the afternoon.Certainly I knew God was perfectly capable of taking care of Steve, of growing Vicki, and He knew the perfect time to call my parents home.In His own gentle way He was reminding me that my only part is always to praise Him in all the details of my life. My heart was suddenly lighter.
It’s wonderful to know God understands our human side.It takes time for me to get to the “Thanksgiving” part of problems sometimes, but God is willing to work with me.For that I offer up prayers of thanksgiving.
"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer
and supplication with thanksgiving, let your
request be made know to God."
Philippians 4:6
I walked over to the sunflowers, touching the pedals of the yellow and brown array.
