Joshua, my guardian angel, rolled the tandem bike over from a stand of trees. I hugged him hard, and then ruffled his crazy head of sandy curls. “Hi, you. How have you been?”
“Busy, Lizzie. You need to stay out of trouble. I need a vacay. How about a little warm beach somewhere when you get out of this place?”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen. But I’ll try to stay out of trouble.”
God handed me my helmet and got on the front of the bike. “Josh you can take a break. I got her for now.”
“Thanks Boss. See you later, Lizzie.”
I waved to Joshua and climbed behind God on the tandem bike. The park was full today with people out riding, picnicking, throwing Frisbees and footballs. Their laughter made me smile. But what did this have to do with me surviving in the world? What did this have to do with God not calling us all home and ending this craziness?
“What do you see, Elizabeth?” God asked.
“People having fun. Families together. Smiling faces.”
“Now look again.”
I blinked and the scene had somehow shifted. It was the same, yet different. The same people, but they had changed. I could see each person, but now a glow, a light seemed to encompass them or illuminate them. Though not entirely. As we rode past, I saw women, men, and children of all ages with the glow, yet each also had a few patches of darkness. Kind of like smudges on clean clothes. Still, overall, they were bright lights.
“I see glowing people … all kinds of people …”
“Good. Now look ahead.”
I looked past God’s shoulder and saw a twilight gloom ahead. We left the park and rode into what looked like an inner city area. We pedaled past rundown buildings, boarded up store fronts, and more people just hanging out on the cracked sidewalks, in the street, leaning against rusted cars, sitting in old lawn chairs on worn out porches.
These people weren’t glowing. They were a mixture of dark and light. I could see through the dark fog to the person because of the few patches of light breaking through. “Why are they so dark?”
We rode past a church where it looked like volunteers were passing out food and water. The mixture here was different, with glowing people and darker people on both sides of the table. I searched their faces. “What am I seeing?”
“Their hearts.”
I looked harder as we continued to ride, through neighborhoods, hospitals, and through foreign countries. We rode through cities, slums, and everything in between. We rode past human traffickers and drug dealers, church picnics and worship services … in Brazil, South Africa, India, England, Greece, Japan and places I didn’t even recognize. People of all ages, ethnicities, and beliefs. Yet I saw each one. Each one as if he or she were the only one. So many places filled with darkened people and yet so many light-filled people among them.
We slowed to a stop in an African village. We watched a young Caucasian woman filled with light teaching a group of children to sing a song in English. They mimicked her as best they could. Their dark faces glowed with the inner light also. Yet as we watched, a truck filled with men approached. They stopped beside the sheltered area where the young woman and children were.
Their darkness covered almost all of them. It was dark and heavy and stank of evil. I covered my nose and mouth as I watched. The young woman stood between the men and the children. She spoke firmly and loudly. The men laughed and the children shrank together into a small huddled group behind the young woman.
One of the men stepped forward and I heard her declare, “In the name of Jesus, I ask you to leave.”
Then the children started whispering the name of Jesus, over and over. It started very low, then became a chant. This was a word they knew. “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus” they repeated.
In one of the men I saw a small light bloom. He reached forward and tapped his comrade on the arm and motioned him to get back in the truck. Reluctantly he obeyed, throwing out threats as he got back in the vehicle. The one in whom I had seen the light bloom, stared back at the woman and children, a question on his face.
“This is why I haven’t ended it yet. There are still too many that haven’t come to me. My Son died for all. I want as many as I can get to come home.”
Day Twenty-Seven
December 2
It was cold and dreary outside—much like me today. The dream from last night still haunted me. The young woman standing up to those men and saying “In the name of Jesus … leave”, kept repeating in my mind’s eye. I saw the spark light up in the one thug as if breathed into being by the name Jesus. There was hope now that he could be saved.
God wasn’t ready to give up on the lost that populated the world. He wasn’t even close. What He needed were more foot soldiers to go into the world and spread the light to others. He needed some to hold the line, to fill the gap where the darkness tried to gain a place to take a stand in the land of light.
The images of the dark and light in each person showed me so much of the struggle that we all face daily. We have to choose the Light instead of the dark. To choose Life instead of death. To choose Love, to choose Jesus. How do we defeat this unseen, yet oh so real enemy?
How did I fit in? Where did I need to take my stand with Jesus?
That was the question now.
In four days I would be released into the world. A world that needed the light that I had seen the past twenty-six days and nights. How did I share that without being thought crazy and being permanently assigned a bed in the loony bin?
So I stared out Doc Aimee’s window and tried to brainstorm some options. First, ask God what he wanted me to do. I knew he wanted me to Love Him and love others. What did that look like in my world? In my life? Whom could I offer to share my light with? A light that could lead them to Jesus … the Light of the world.
Light and salt. Isn’t that what the Bible talked about? I needed to look that one up.
You don’t cover a light; it is there to provide hope, guidance, warmth, and clarity. “How can I do that, Lord?” I whispered.
“What was that, Elizabeth?”
Doc had come in so quietly I hadn’t heard her.
I turned to face her. Inside her office it was warm and bright, like Aimee. “I was asking God how I could point others to Jesus. How can I be light to those that are lost? That sounds pretty holy-roly doesn’t it? As if I could help anyone!
“I mean look at me. Look at where I am. Look at what I’ve done. How could I even believe that God could or would use me?”
Doc scribbled some notes, and then waved me over to sit down on the couch across from her. “So first, why don’t you think God would or could use you?”
I sighed and slumped back into the couch. Why did I keep slipping back into that negative talk? “I know. You’re right. He’s right. God can use anybody; they just have to be willing to follow Him.”
“And are you? Willing to follow?”
“Yes. But I don’t know what to do.”
“Sometimes you just have to try some different things. Definitely start with prayer. Ask for clear direction. And then do something. If what you pick doesn’t work, try something else. What are you considering trying?”
“I’m not sure. I know there is a need. And I want to help. But then I wonder if I’m strong enough? If I couldn’t help myself, how can I help someone else?”
Aimee smiled. “We all need help sometimes, don’t you think? If I asked you to show the new intake patient around today, couldn’t you help get them settled?”
“Why yes …”
“And if they asked about being here? Couldn’t you share your experience, your thoughts about what helped and what didn’t?”
“Sure, I mean I guess …”
“How much strength would that require of you?”
“Just a little.”
“So if God asked yo
u to make a scared new patient more comfortable, you could?”
“I would certainly try.”
“And how strong is God? Couldn’t He through Christ give you what you need?”
I blinked. Yes. God was strong.
“And if God has called you, then don’t you think He already knows what He’s getting? Doesn’t He know you, Elizabeth?”
I nodded. “Yes, He does. Very much so.”
“So what is He calling you to do?”
I thought back over what we had seen last night, and previous nights. Feeding people from the tandem bicycle basket. Helping others fix their bikes. Seeing the light in one person spark the light in another. Isabeau nudging me to stay and talk to Michael, to follow Savannah, to share Psalm 139 with the group and even Cindy. Teaching me to rely on Him all the time because I never knew where the darkness was coming from. So many truths, lessons, and what did it mean for when I left here in a few day?
“I think He wants me to share my light.”
“Share your light? Interesting. Tell me about that.”
I looked away, chewing my bottom lip, trying to find words. “I want to help people find Jesus. I want to help them get to Him. Help them spend time with Him. Help them get to know Him and love Him so much that they realize that He is all they need.”
“So what does sharing your light look like in your world?”
I smiled at her use of the question I asked myself just minutes before.
“You are leaving here soon. Have you started making plans? We’ve talked about it in group just a bit, and in the last couple of one-on-one sessions. How are you “mentally” “physically” “emotionally” about leaving us?”
“When you put it like that it sounds so overwhelming. Physically, I feel stronger and rested. Mentally, I’m ready to get back to a regular daily life, begin a new normal. Do ordinary things like grocery shop, take a walk, clean my house and even go see a movie with friends. Emotionally, sometimes I want to stay. I feel safe here, protected from the world and from myself. I’m afraid of making the wrong decisions.”
“Listen to how honest you are being with me and with yourself. The woman who came here told me she was fine and had everything handled. She wanted out of here.”
“I wish I could have told her it would be okay.”
“You still can, Elizabeth. Tell her now. Tell her when she gets scared or feels weak or just needs to hear it.”
I got up and went to the wall mirror across the room. I looked at the woman in that looking glass. I was starting to re-appear again in her eyes, her smile and in the clean hair that fell around her face. I had lost me, but I was finding more of her each day. “It’s going to be okay.”
Dream 27
“It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay …” I was repeating that line in my sleep, tossing and turning in my bed. I missed Angel. He had brought me such comfort, though I had never been a dog person before. Then I was in the field beside the shed where Jesus had been building something for me.
I nearly ran, excited to see his progress and talk to Him about being a light for others-pointing the way to Him.
I rounded the hedge of fig trees expecting to see him but he wasn’t there. Neither was the project we had been building, the boards we had been nailing together and painting with some finish. I pushed open the door to the shed, but it was completely empty, too.
Nothing remained to show we had ever set here on this porch and talked and worked. Yet, the scent of wood remained. And a bit of paint. Then I felt something nuzzle my hand and I looked down to see Angel. “Angel boy! What are you doing here?”
I dropped to one knee and hugged his neck. He pressed back into me, such sweetness. “Do you know where Jesus is?”
“Woof” he barked and backed away, looking deep into my eyes.
“You want me to follow you?” Of course I had a flashback to several nights ago and Luke. “Dear Lord, bless and protect us wherever we go. Guide us on your path. Amen.”
Then I heard it. The humming, the whistling, the sound of Jesus happy and content. I smiled so wide and felt the love well up in me. Angel heard it too and turned and ran toward the sound. I followed quickly around the other side of the shed towards the tree line. Perplexed, I watch Angel run around the base of this wide oak tree. He yipped and barked, his tail wagging frantically.
“Where is He, boy?” I asked as I looked all around. Then I looked up. Along the side of the tree trunk, steps had been nailed and a rope hung down. Through the tree branches full of leaves I caught glimpses of wood, a wall, maybe a door.
“Hello up there?” I called out feeling a bit foolish.
“Come on up, Elizabeth. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Joy surged through me. I climbed the tree ladder as quickly as I could and pulled on the rope. A trap door swung up and open and I climbed into a room. I scooted in and let the trap door close. Looking around I saw a small table for two with two chairs, and a hammock. There were two windows, one on each side of a door. “Jesus?”
“Out here.”
His voice floated in from the window. I opened the door and there was a porch surrounded by a waist high railing and two rocking chairs. Jesus sat in one and waved me to the other. “What do you think?”
I gazed around in wonder. Jesus had built me a tree house. It was something I had always wanted when I was a little girl. Instead I had gotten a playhouse. Nice and pretty and very safely on the ground. It had been good, but I had wanted the adventure of being up, off the ground and in the trees.
The view was beautiful, seeing out over the farm and into the valley beyond. A slight breeze rustled through the leaves and I felt it caress my cheek. “Thank you,” I whispered to an all-seeing, all-hearing God. I turned to Jesus. “Thank you very much.”
“Surprised?”
“Totally! I never guessed this was what we were making. I gave up on a tree house once when I was about twelve, and then again when Hannah turned eight and asked for a manicure and pedicure for Christmas. I knew my girl just wasn’t going to climb trees. This is a real treat.”
But my smile dimmed as a dark thought crossed my mind. Will I get to come back?
Jesus reached out his hand to me and I placed mine in his willingly. “Nearly four weeks ago you ran from me. In the last few days, you have called on me repeatedly. How you have grown! From infant to child to adolescent to young adult. You don’t need this tree house to have an adventure. You have me!”
I laughed out loud! He was so right. All the adventure I could ever want was in this one person, this one triune God, rocking next to me. “You’re right, as usual. Still, this tree house is pretty cool.”
I rubbed my hand down the arms on the rocking chairs, feeling the cool smooth wood. I noticed the railing on the porch was the waves I had seen him carve nights ago. For me. So much for me. “What can I do for you? I mean I want to help others find you. I want to spark the light in others. Like I saw last night with God. Can I do that?”
Jesus smiled a huge smile. “Yes, you can. But we have to finish one more task before you’re ready to go help others.”
“What’s that Lord? You know I will do anything you ask.”
He turned to me then and took both my hands in His. His deep dark eyes were so full of strength and love. I marveled at the gift I had been given, to see His precious face.
“I need you to forgive.”
Surprised, I answered. “But I have forgiven. Or at least I have been working on it. Forgiving Sean for making the mistake, forgiving John Buchannan for his part in the accident, and forgiven you for allowing it. I’ve asked for forgiveness too, though everyone is not as receptive as I would like. I understand I hurt some people. But I’m trying. I promise.”
“What about you, Elizabeth? Have you forgiven yourself?”
“Me?�
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“Yes. You. I want you to forgive yourself for not being the perfect grieving widow. I want you to forgive yourself for losing it, for falling apart.”
I started crying. Any time Doc headed that direction, I had managed to avoid it. The tears ran down my face and fell onto our clasped hands. I pressed my face against them because he wouldn’t let mine go.
“Let it out. Let it all out. I’ve got you.”
So I cried. I cried because I couldn’t stop them from going on the ride. I cried because I hadn’t gone with them. I couldn’t stop what I was doing to ride with them. I cried because I couldn’t be the strong widow living a perfectly sad quiet life. I cried because I couldn’t stop the pain. All I had been able to do was hurt. I fell apart like a ceramic vase shattered on a brick floor—pieces everywhere and no idea how to get them back together again. Then I couldn’t live any longer either. I was a failure at life and a failure at death.
As my tears finally slowed, I slipped from my chair, to my knees and put my head on His knees. “I made so many mistakes, did so many flat-out rebellious things. Still when I prayed you came…and you saved me.”
“Yes I did. And looking back now, what would you tell yourself?
Today I had looked in the wall mirror hanging in Doc’s office to tell my past self that ‘It would be okay’ and had felt a small measure of belief and peace. Now looking up into Jesus’ eyes I could see the woman I had been twenty-eight days ago. Then I could see just me. I was no longer that woman. I still had a ways to go, but I was better, stronger, and had my feet planted on the foundation of God, Jesus, and the Spirit’s love. “I would tell her, ‘It’s going to be okay. God’s got your back.’”
Day Twenty-Eight
December 3
I woke up thinking about last night and an idea I had had before falling asleep. But I needed to start small and needed to start right now. I sat at the table by the window and tipped up the picture I hadn’t been able to look at before. Sean and Hannah smiled at me from the sidewalk in front of our house, perched on their bikes. The picture was from the year before. And it was so them. So father and daughter. The smile on their faces nearly identical. I had zoomed the shot to see their joy in this regular outing. It was a bittersweet moment now. I set it next to the other pictures and took a deep breath. I was healing.
30 Nights with God Page 17