Lord, give me words, I whispered prayerfully in my mind and heart. “But that’s how it feels, doesn’t it?”
“Yes! I’m a carpenter. Without two hands, I’m useless. Not to mention playing second base in the baseball league, sailing my sailboat or even tying my shoes! Ever tried to tie your shoes one-handed? And don’t tell me about those Velcro tennis shoes. I’m not eighty! I’m thirty-four and my life is over.”
“What baseball league do you play on?” Sean had played with a team sponsored by his workplace at our local park. I had gone to most of the games and knew most of the leagues.
“The Chiefs.”
“The champions two years ago?”
His face lit up. “And this year too! You have someone who plays?”
“My husband did. For the Pelicans. You beat them out for the championship two years ago. He was so mad, but by the time we got to the party at Angelo’s he was back in good spirits. That was Sean.” I smiled remembering his joyful spirit. He was never upset for long. It just hadn’t been in him.
“Why didn’t he play this year? We had a great time.”
Shocked at the question, I looked at him in surprise. Then it dawned on me. He didn’t know. But why would he know? And I was going to meet people who didn’t know. How was I going to handle this?
“My husband and daughter were killed in an accident last spring.” There I said it. And my eyes didn’t fill with tears. But the sorrow rose up inside to grip my heart. To my surprise though, Michael’s eyes filled with tears.
“That’s why you’re here?” he asked. “Man, how can you listen to me complain? I lost a hand. You lost your family. I’m really sorry.”
“I appreciate the sympathy, but don’t downplay your loss. I thought my life was over, too. Just like you. But I’m getting better. I’m healing. You will too if you want to. The group wants to help. Doc Aimee wants to help. The physical therapist wants to help. But none of them can make you do the work needed to get well. It’s up to you.”
“And you’re telling me … how long you been here?”
“This is day twenty-five.”
“You’re telling me after twenty-five days, you are healing from that? From the deaths of your husband and daughter?”
“I had to choose to live. I had to accept help from everyone here … and from God. Twenty-six days ago I wouldn’t have been able to tell you my husband and daughter died last spring without a drink in my hand and a bottle beside me.”
“I don’t believe in God, but maybe the rest could work. Maybe …
Dream 25
“He doesn’t believe in you! I went blank, completely blank. How do I talk to other people about you? I’ve never actually done that. I mean people at work knew I was Christian, and used to come to me to request prayer, and I felt useful that way. But I never asked about their own faith, their own beliefs, or if they had a church family that was praying for them too.
“How could I have been in church all my life, for forty-six years, and never spoken to anyone about you?” I paced back and forth in front of God on our original beach bench. The day was gorgeous. Clean bright sunshine, a cool fresh breeze off the Gulf, and warm sand beneath my bare feet. As I paced, I threw my hands in the air.
“How do you put up with me? Why do you put up with me?”
God chuckled, but then he turned serious. “You know the answer to that one.”
I plopped down beside him. “You love me. You really love me. You see me, accept me just like I am, and want me to come home to you. You are simply too wonderful for words.”
“That sounds like a good place to start.”
“What do you mean? To start what?”
“Telling someone else about me.”
I looked into his dear face. “Really? That sounds too easy. Don’t I need to give them some theology, some rules, quote scripture or something?”
“What helped you, Elizabeth? What brought you back to me?”
“You mean this month? You mean besides your insistence on being in my dreams every night?”
God waited while I thought back. Where had been the turning point for me? What had triggered my change of heart? My turning back to God? I remembered. It had been a hard day followed by a hard night. It was the night He had said would be His last visit unless something changed. “My definition of trust was someone who would put my needs before their own. You put me first. By my own definition I could trust you. I could trust you on the front of the tandem bike, in charge of me and my life. That was hard. Very hard.”
“But you made the choice to trust me.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “So, I love you and can be trusted with your life?”
“Yes.” I nodded. Simple. Peaceful.
“And how do you know that?”
“You mean, besides my nightly visits with the three of you?”
“Yes. Let’s say when you leave here, you don’t remember these dreams, but you remember what you learned.”
My heart stopped in my chest and then did a double time. “Whhhat? I won’t remember You? That can’t happen. I understand if you’re too busy to come back, but let me keep my memories.”
God took my hand. “Elizabeth, do not fret. If you start talking about seeing God every night, most people will run. What can you say that won’t make people think you are crazy? How do you know I love you and put you first?”
I took a deep breath, calming myself. “You sent Jesus. You sent Your Son to pay for my sins. And not just mine, but the sins of everyone. The Bible says that—and this will be rough—“that while we were still sinners, You sent your innocent beloved Son, to die on a cross for all of us.”
“And what does that mean?”
My smile was huge and I wrapped my arms around Him—because I could—and hugged him in gratitude. “It means I get to be your child. I get to go to heaven when I die and spend eternity with you. Just like Sean and Hannah are doing now. It means I get to see your face, and Jesus’ face, and the Spirit’s face. It means I’m never alone. It means I have help any moment of any day and every moment of every day. It means I can find joy in the morning, though the night was sad. It means I have access to your mercy and your grace, because I’m going to mess up. It means You want what is best for me, even when I can’t see or understand what you are doing. It means I can have an abundant life while still here on earth.”
“How are you so sure? Where did you get your confidence?”
I tapped the place over my heart. “I know it here, and I read it here.” I placed my hand on my Bible.
“The Bible? You believe it? Hasn’t it been re-written and translated so much that no one knows what it means? Look at all the different Christian faiths? If no one can agree, how can it be right?”
“Endurance. What other piece of literature has endured this long? Nothing. And there are many remnants of scriptures and even whole books of the Bible, in various languages, that we have from the first and second century after Christ that we can examine and study. The Bible was and is God-inspired. You inspired it! You breathed it into life. You inspired the writers and it has endured despite the conflicts it has caused, despite those who sought to get rid of it, despite the changing world, and despite us.”
“You sound pretty convinced.”
I opened my mouth, and then closed it. I nodded. Decisive. “Yes, I am. I may not have all the facts, but I could get them. I have read enough though, and that, combined with my faith, tells me the Bible is true.”
God smiled and leaned back stretching his arms along the back of the bench. “And that, Elizabeth, is how it is done.”
I sat down. “But lots of people will say they aren’t interested or will even want to argue.”
“There is no need to argue or get angry or badger anyone. Tell your story. Show your heart. I gave everyone a choice. They get to choose. I just want you
to give them something to think about.”
I thought about that for several minutes in peaceful silence with God. Then, just as I decided I could do that, I awoke in my bed. How did He do that?
Day Twenty-Six
December 1
Today Stephen was leaving with his parents. A breakthrough had occurred. He was going home with his parents for a while. There he would continue weekly one-on-one counseling with a new counselor, plus weekly group sessions, rounded out by his daily meds. The last few days Stephen had been going outside for longer and longer times by himself without any panic attacks. Despite the cold, we had joined him once Doc Aimee had allowed us. He had walked the entire fenced grounds yesterday. Our clapping and whistles and congratulations caused him to blush, but he had been grinning ear to ear.
So this morning at breakfast we were telling him good-bye. Annie and I. We offered a silent prayer and raised our coffee in a salute to Dorothy. Then heads bowed, we prayed—all three—for Richard to keep doing well and find the joy to live well.
I opened my mouth to tell Stephen so long, but Annie beat me to it.
“Stephen, I was sure you were truly crazy because I had never heard of anyone being scared to go outside—unless there was a hurricane. But then I remembered that I am scared to walk, so you didn’t seem that crazy after all.”
She paused a minute, her face scrunched up as if in deep thought. I truly expected her to change the subject to something like dessert tonight, but she surprised me.
She patted his hand in a friendly way. “Have a good life. Let your folks take care of you until you’re good and well. Don’t forget where you’ve been and how far you have come. You are strong.”
“Thank you, Annie. That means a lot to me. I thought I was crazy, too. I know I am better now. Maybe you could get better, too?”
The question was implied, but Annie ignored it and wheeled herself around the table from him and began to eat her oatmeal.
Stephen and I looked at each other. Then we just hugged. He had been the Tin Man in our group—so full of heart. I was thankful God had brought him into my time here. “God be with you and bless you always, Stephen. Thank you for who you are.”
“Thank you, Elizabeth, for reminding me that God is near. I’ll never forget any of our group.”
Doc Aimee patted him on the shoulder. “Your parents are here. Ready to go?”
He nodded and with a hesitant wave he was gone.
Just a few minutes later Savannah joined us in our back corner. “I just told Stephen bye. His parents looked happy to see him. I hope he does okay.”
I pulled out the chair next to me and motioned for Savannah to join us. “We all do.”
Savannah sat, slouching low in her chair. “Does this mean we will be getting a new person in our group?”
I took another bite of cheese grits, nodding. “Probably. You came after Dorothy, and Michael came after Richard.”
“So when do you leave, Elizabeth? Am I going to be left here alone with a bunch of new crazy people?”
Savannah, ever the teenager, with her ‘how does this mess up my life’ pouty face, played with Stephen’s coffee cup. “I leave in four days. Thursday. But Annie should leave before me. When do you leave, Annie?”
Annie put down her spoon and wiped her lips with her napkin. Her mouth was twitching like it wanted to say something, but something else was stopping her. “Leave? I don’t leave. Until the good Lord takes me to heaven.”
And Annie turned her wheelchair and rolled across the dining room as if the devil was chasing her, or something worse.
“What’s her problem?” Savannah asked.
I shook my head and pushed back from the table. “I truly don’t know. She told Stephen she was scared to walk. That’s the most I’ve ever heard her say about why she is here. I mean she gets a little forgetful and absent-minded sometimes, but overall she seems healthy. I really don’t know.”
“Well, the rest of us have to talk about our problems. Why doesn’t she?”
“You know, that’s a good question. Maybe I’ll ask at group this morning.”
Savannah pushed back from the table and stood. She chewed her bottom lip. “Maybe she goes crazy if people ask.”
I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. “There is too much drama in that pretty head of yours.”
** ** **
But two hours later I did ask. I asked Annie, not Doc Aimee. Savannah’s eyes got as big as saucers. Doc looked up from her notes.
“Elizabeth, today we are starting with Michael—
“It’s okay, Aimee.” Annie interrupted quietly, but firmly. “I’ll answer.”
I had never heard that tone of authority or that lilt of education in her voice before. I watched as Doc did the strangest thing. She turned off her recorder and laid down her pen, charts and files. Whatever Annie said was off-off the record.
“I was recruited by a Federal agency the year I turned twenty-two. I was just about to start my last semester of college, but things changed. I was a bright attractive African-American woman and they wanted me to work for them. To serve my country. And I did. Very well. For a long time. I was good at my job. I was a year or two from my thirty year mark, and mandatory retirement, when an old enemy found me.
“I was dropped off the side of a building. Broke my back and a few other things. I was rescued fairly quickly I’m told—I was mercifully unconscious—and airlifted to a government facility where five months later my caregivers asked me to take my first step. And I did. With the help of parallel bars and a lot of upper body strength.
“There was no way I was going back to work. I knew that. But I wanted to walk. It was the best shot I had at a fairly normal retirement. I had seen the world and now I wanted a different adventure. But it was not to be. That evening of the day of my first step, after the midnight rounds, when everything was still and quiet, I fell asleep grateful for God’s blessings. I woke suddenly and there he was. My old enemy. He told me if I ever walked again, every one of my family would die. He dropped pictures of them on my bed and slipped out of the room.
“I stared at those pictures a long time. I knew he was serious. I knew he meant what he said. And here I am, not walking, twelve years later.”
Her voice faded away. The silence deepened. Was this possibly true? The woman who ate banana pudding like she would never get another bite? Surely this was pure fiction, or was it?
Annie nodded her head as if agreeing with herself, then looked up. “Gotcha!”
Michael laughed and slapped his knee with his one hand. “Good one, Annie!”
Then Savannah started giggling. “You … a spy … I love it!”
And Doc Aimee followed suit chuckling and shaking her head. “Annie, you got us all. That was great.”
I laughed lightly too, but my gaze was locked on Annie. Her face was mimicking mirth, but the way her hands clasped the arms of the wheelchair told a different story. It almost looked as if she wanted to push up and stand. Could she?
I wasn’t sure I would ever know the truth. Dorothy had lived in a fantasy world to escape the pain of reality. Annie could be doing something similar by making up elaborate reasons for not walking. Still I knew there was a mystery there. I just hoped that one day Annie would be able to be free of the fear that held her here at Safe Haven.
In reality the government had to do something with crazy retired spies, didn’t they? Or did they never get old enough to retire?
“Okay everyone, now that Annie has thoroughly entertained us. Let’s get down to business. Michael how is the physical therapy going?
Doc wanted Michael to talk today. She had started with some soft careful questions, but the more prodding they became, the pricklier Michael became.
“I wasn’t lying to the doctors and I’m not lying to you. The hand hurt. They told me about phantom pain or so
mething, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t real to me. It was very real to me.”
“And how is the pain now?” Doc Aimee asked.
“Better. Comes and goes. It’s been four months. The doctors say it’s healed well.”
“And your physical therapy? Building your strength in your arm? How is that going?”
Michael shrugged. “He says I’m strong enough. Of course, being a carpenter I used my hands, arms, shoulders, and back all the time. They were already strong. Still, no matter how strong I am, I can’t do anything with one hand.”
“While you’ve been here, have you talked about getting the prosthetic hand?”
“Yes, but I don’t see the point. It’s not real. It’s not my hand.”
“And you’re angry?”
Michael straightened in is chair. “Of course I’m angry. That’s why I’m in here, right? For some anger management?”
“Can you tell us how you came to be here?”
“It’s no secret.” Michael said. “I got in a couple fights, wrecked a car, that kind of thing.”
Doc flipped back in her notes. I hated when she did that to me. “Three fights that you were arrested for. And the wrecked car was yours and on purpose. What was that about?”
“It was my car. So what?”
Dream 26
“We are all so broken. And we hurt each other so much. We are selfish and self-centered, and our lack of compassion is only topped by our insistence on not accepting help. How has the human race survived? Why haven’t you ended this madness? I’m not sure if I’m capable any longer of existing, of living, out there anymore. If a strong woman like Annie can be kept in a wheelchair, what hope have I?”
I stopped my pacing back and forth before God. I wanted to know He had it under control. I wanted to hear His reassurance that I would survive out in the crazy world. I wanted to hide in His arms and never leave. I sank next to Him on the park bench and pressed in close. “Help me please.”
God wrapped an arm around me and hugged me close. He kissed the top of my head, as if I were a beloved child, which I knew now I definitely was. “I think we need to go for a bike ride.”
30 Nights with God Page 16