by Alana Terry
Grandma Lucy.
Meredith forced her brain to shift from planning for the future to focus on the present, and she returned Grandma Lucy’s wide smile.
“May I?” Grandma Lucy gestured to the empty seat beside her.
Meredith moved her carry-on to make room for the old woman.
“So, you’re flying to Detroit, then?” Grandma Lucy asked.
Meredith nodded. “I figured it’s either that or wait around here. And I’m ready to get home.” She felt the truth of her words the moment she spoke them. Home. Was there ever a sweeter sound to anyone’s ears?
Home. Not so she could nurse her wounds. Not so she could count the friends who had turned on her. Betrayed her. No.
Home. So she could plan. So she could give life to this idea that was visibly growing on the page before her.
“Is that your prayer journal?” Grandma Lucy asked.
Meredith realized she’d kept her book open. She flushed slightly and shut the cover. “Of sorts.”
Grandma Lucy reached out and grabbed her hand. The gesture was too familiar and quite unexpected, and yet somehow Meredith didn’t mind. In fact, the contact gave her comfort. Energy. Even more fuel for her newfound dreams. Who knew? Maybe she’d even invite Grandma Lucy to join her team of prayer support for her new endeavor.
“You know, I didn’t want to be too forward when we were talking earlier.” Grandma Lucy said. “But God’s just been putting something on my heart and won’t stop. So I told him if I saw you again, I’d be sure to bring it up, and even if not, I’d find your contact information from your website when I got home and write you.”
Meredith waited. What was it the old woman wanted to say?
In her time as a public figure in the Christian women’s ministry niche, Meredith had received several alleged prophesies from various individuals, like the Christian who mailed a letter so many years ago warning her not to travel anymore because she’d had a terrible nightmare about Meredith trapped inside the cabin of a burning airplane after it crashed. Another time someone wrote in to plead with Meredith to get a mammogram because God told them she would one day die of breast cancer. Which raised the obvious question: If she was going to die of the breast cancer anyway, what was so urgent about getting herself checked out?
But Meredith was up to date on her health checkups, and she’d flown hundreds of times now without incident. These kinds of warnings and so-called words of God just went with the territory of being in the public Christian eye. And most of the time, even though she never took their warnings to heart, she was able to extend grace to the speakers. Surely they meant well.
Most of them. With a few of the messages she’d received over the years, Meredith had a harder time being that gracious. Like the pastor’s wife who wrote an email to Living Grace Headquarters claiming that she’d seen a demon of lust clinging to Meredith’s back.
Or maybe it was her neck. Meredith couldn’t remember the finer details now.
Of course, some people didn’t need to have a spiritual excuse to just be plain old jerks. In Angie’s inbox sat three different canned responses ready to send to Christians, mostly men, who complained that it was sinful for a woman to teach the Bible. Of course, Meredith’s Bible studies were very obviously targeted to women, but that didn’t seem to matter. Twice in her career, the board even forced Meredith to get the Grand Rapids police involved when hate mail turned a little too personal. Meredith knew her friends were overreacting but appreciated the fact that they looked out for her best interests.
At least they had at one point.
Meredith was skeptical when Grandma Lucy told her she had a message for her, but she knew that the old woman’s heart was in the right place.
“After we met for tea,” Grandma Lucy began, “I just felt this burning need to pray for you. And not only for you, but for Living Grace as a ministry. I don’t know all the details, mind you, but I know I read somewhere in the news that you’ve taken some backlash for a few of your stances.”
Some backlash. That was one way to summarize Meredith’s relationship with her former board.
Grandma Lucy gave her hand another squeeze, stronger this time. “And I just wanted to tell you that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ. Because you are a child of the Most High God. You are blessed by the Almighty with your name written down in the Lamb’s book of life, with your forehead sealed with the symbol of God’s favor. You are blessed, you are anointed, and you are God’s chosen instrument to deliver his message to hurting women.”
Meredith sat perfectly still, wondering if she was supposed to close her eyes or not. It was hard to tell if Grandma Lucy was praying or speaking directly to her. In a way, she was doing both at the exact same time.
“And I know that your road hasn’t been easy,” she went on. “The pathway of God’s chosen servants is riddled with thorns and briars, but he is the God who lifts you up out of the miry clay and places your feet on a firm place to stand. He is the God who shields you with his protection so that the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all harm, both now and forever. He will watch over your coming and your going. He will shelter you with his love and carry you under his wings.”
Now Meredith had an even harder time articulating what exactly it was that Grandma Lucy was doing. Was she preaching at her? Reciting Bible verses?
What she couldn’t ignore, however, was the pounding in her chest, the swell of conviction and hope in her spirit.
“Heavenly Father,” Grandma Lucy continued, this time addressing God directly, “I lift up my precious and anointed sister to you. I pray blessings to rain down on her head. I pray that whatever she touches will succeed. I pray that you will expand her territory, increase her ministry, and protect her from all harm. It’s your Holy Word that says not even a sparrow falls to the ground apart from your will, that we are fearfully and wonderfully made to do good works, which you created in advance for us to do. It’s your Holy Word that describes the deep love you lavish on us, calling us your children even though we are so unworthy.”
Meredith didn’t know if she wanted to cry or raise her hands up in the air and begin singing praises. How long had it been since she’d experienced the presence of the Holy Spirit like this? How many years had she spent teaching people about God’s love and power without ever reaching out and grasping it herself? Had she gotten so busy, so caught up in teaching others that she’d neglected her own spiritual health?
Grandma Lucy wasn’t close to slowing down. Meredith was vaguely aware of a few strange stares as the old woman’s voice grew in volume and intensity, but she wasn’t about to tell Grandma Lucy to quiet down. In fact, Meredith had a pretty good feeling that if she said anything right now, Grandma Lucy was too absorbed in her prayer to hear.
“It’s your Holy Word that says you will restore the years the locusts have eaten. It’s your Holy Word that promises all things work together for the good of those who love you, who are called according to your purpose.”
Meredith wondered if the entire snowstorm happened for this one precise moment. If she couldn’t get to Grand Rapids because God knew she needed this right here, right now — this inspiration pouring into her spirit, breathing life into her soul that had grown so weary.
“It’s your Holy Word,” Grandma Lucy proclaimed, “that compels us to come to you and cast our cares upon you, and that’s exactly what we do, dear Lord. We cast our burdens down at your feet, praying they will be an acceptable and pleasing offering to you. We surrender our souls, our bodies, our very lives to you and your service, and we know that you are the God who promises to never leave us nor forsake us. You are the God who declares, When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” Grandma Lucy gave
a slight gasp and let go of Meredith’s hand.
Meredith wasn’t sure what had happened. Why had Grandma Lucy stopped? Why was she staring at her like that?
“Did you say you have a seat on this flight?” Grandma Lucy demanded, as if she had no idea that she’d spent the past ten minutes boldly praying, breathing life and conviction into Meredith’s battle-weary soul.
Meredith stared at her in confusion.
“Flight 219?” Grandma Lucy pressed. “Headed to Detroit?”
“Yes.” Meredith leaned forward, trying to determine if the old woman was all right. Had her skin always looked so pale?
Grandma Lucy’s voice, which had a moment earlier carried more hope and conviction than Meredith had experienced in all her years of ministry combined, was now faint and trembling.
“Dear Jesus,” the old woman whispered, “Let this cup of trouble pass or we will all be lost.”
CHAPTER 16
Flight 219
Even though Meredith hadn’t been able to hear the entire exchange between Bradley and his next victim, the loud and confident voice from the back of the cabin now carried over every other sound in the plane.
“Let her go.”
Meredith’s breath caught in her throat when she recognized the voice of the speaker.
“I said let her go.” Grandma Lucy was out of her seat now. Meredith forgot any of her former resolve. Forgot that she was supposed to focus on the child beside her. Forgot that she was supposed to keep her eyes closed. She remained twisted around in her seat and stared, transfixed, a hint or maybe an echo of the same sense of power she’d experienced when Grandma Lucy prayed over her in the airport gate now flying somewhere overhead in the cabin. If she could focus her attention just a little more, she could grab hold of it.
Keep some of that peace and conviction for herself.
“Sit down,” Grandma Lucy ordered the young woman, who only a moment before had been staring at the end of Bradley’s gun. She didn’t move.
“Sit down, child,” Grandma Lucy told her again, her voice gentler this time.
Grandma Lucy turned her attention to Bradley. “If you need a victim that badly, young man, take me.”
“You?” Bradley scoffed. “You’re nothing but a shriveled up old woman.”
“You’re exactly right.” Grandma Lucy straightened her back. Even though she couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, Meredith could have sworn the old woman was staring down at the hijacker. “That’s why if you want to kill someone, you kill me instead. Let that poor girl go. Can’t you see how terrified she is?”
Bradley didn’t take his eyes off Grandma Lucy. Neither did Meredith.
Her assailant stood at least a full foot taller than she was, yet Grandma Lucy managed to convey the impression that she towered over him.
“If you’re so determined to take another life today, I’m more than ready to meet my Maker. One could say you’d be doing me a favor.”
Bradley sneered. Meredith couldn’t stop staring at Grandma Lucy. Was the old woman growing taller by the second?
There was a moment of hesitation. A pause. Was Bradley considering?
And then he raised the gun to Grandma Lucy.
No, Meredith wanted to scream. No. But she couldn’t find the words. Couldn’t even pray for the old woman. All she could do was watch.
“Before you shoot me, I have one favor to ask.” Grandma Lucy’s voice hadn’t yet wavered once. How did she manage to sound so calm? She tilted her chin up. Glared at Bradley.
“What is it?” he asked. And whatever it was Grandma Lucy demanded of him, Meredith believed he would comply with her request. How could he do anything but?
“I want to pray for you.”
He scoffed again, and Grandma Lucy silenced him with a stern glare.
“You will let me pray for you, and then you can do whatever you want with me.”
Pray for him? What was she doing? What was she saying? What was this? Did Grandma Lucy mean to stall him? Was someone going to sneak up and grab Bradley from behind, tackle him to the ground while his attention was on this little old prayer warrior?
No. Nobody in the cabin was moving. If Meredith could have guessed, she would have said nobody in the cabin could move, not in the face of such conviction. Such boldness. The confidence that exuded from Grandma Lucy’s entire being was nothing short of divine. Nothing short of miraculous.
Who was this old woman? An angel, maybe?
Meredith recalled the warmth of her touch when Grandma Lucy had grabbed her by the hand to pray for her in the airport terminal. Not an angel. Then what?
And how in the world could Meredith call herself a Christian leader when she knew with certainty she’d never possess the undying faith that Grandma Lucy displayed with every defiant tilt of her head, every confident demand?
Grandma Lucy didn’t wait for Bradley’s permission. She lifted her hand up toward heaven and began to pray. Meredith held her breath. Any criminal in his right mind would shoot the old woman right now. He’d already killed before and was prepared to do it again. How hard could it be? And yet Meredith knew, just as certainly as she knew that if the plane’s engines malfunctioned she and everyone on board would plummet to their deaths, that Grandma Lucy was safe. In the past, Meredith had prayed for God to shield other believers from harm, to put up a hedge of protection around them. Now, she was half certain that if she were to walk up to where Grandma Lucy stood and reached out her arm, she’d find Grandma Lucy surrounded by an impenetrable wall of divine power.
Grandma Lucy’s prayer for Bradley was just as passionate, just as powerful as her prayer for Meredith at the gate.
“Father God, Savior of the world, our Creator, Healer, and Friend, I pray for this young man. I pray for all the hurts he’s carrying around, Lord, all the confusion, all the pain and fear. I pray for your sweet and holy Spirit to minister to his yearning soul. God, show him that you are the way and the truth and the life and that no one comes to the Father except through your Son.
“I pray that every sin this young man here has ever committed would be forgiven on account of the blood shed for him when you sent your Son Jesus to die on the cross to take his place, to carry the punishment for his transgression. Lord, you alone can forgive sins. You alone can take the pain that this man is feeling and turn it into something beautiful. Something glorious. And so I ask you to minister to his soul today, Father. Show him that salvation isn’t found in guns or terrorism or fear. Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to men by which we must be saved. This is what we believe, and this is what we proclaim …”
“Stop! That’s enough.” Bradley roared. The gun in his hand trembled as he took closer aim at Grandma Lucy’s forehead.
The spell was broken.
Bradley pulled the trigger.
Meredith closed her eyes.
CHAPTER 17
Logan Airport
Sitting in the airport gate, Meredith’s whole body chilled at the strange ending to Grandma Lucy’s prayer. Let this cup of trouble pass or we will all be lost. What was that supposed to mean? Had God told Grandma Lucy about Meredith and her meeting with the board of directors? Had yesterday’s board meeting been this so-called cup of trouble?
And what about the last part? All will be lost? Where was the hope, the conviction that had resounded so majestically in Grandma Lucy’s words just moments earlier?
Meredith’s phone rang. At first she wasn’t going to answer, but the bizarre, piercing look Grandma Lucy gave made her uncomfortable. Meredith stood up, thankful for a reason to excuse herself. What had started as a monumental spiritual revelation had just as quickly and inexplicably morphed into one of her most awkward airport encounters to date.
She glanced at the caller ID then wheeled her carry-on a few steps away to she could have a little privacy to talk. “Hi, Connor.” Ordinarily Meredith would have wondered why he was
calling her so shortly after they had just spoken, but after her encounter with Grandma Lucy, she doubted much more could surprise her today.
“Hey.” His voice sounded unsure. Uncertain. So different than the power, the divine confidence that infused Grandma Lucy’s words a few minutes earlier. Meredith glanced back at the old woman, who was bent over in her chair now as if in silent, tormented prayer.
She looked away. No reason to focus on Grandma Lucy right now. She didn’t know why Connor was calling her but figured whatever it was deserved her attention more than an eccentric old woman waiting at an airport gate.
Connor cleared his throat. “So, I wanted to talk to you about something …”
Meredith had figured as much when she saw his name land on her caller ID and waited for something else. But what?
A slight cough. What was Connor trying to say? “Listen,” he finally managed to get out, “I don’t know if you’ve been paying much attention to the weather. I know you’ve had other things on your mind.” His voice trailed off. Awkward. Embarrassed.
Meredith continued to wait.
“And maybe I’m the last person you want to hear this from …”
Oh, great. Meredith gripped her cell. Was this the part where he confessed that he was the tie-breaking vote that got her fired? Was he calling to ask her forgiveness? To absolve his guilt?
“I’m really not sure you should be flying today. The Grand Rapid airport’s closed …”
“I’ve rerouted to Detroit,” she interrupted. Meredith had no idea why Connor was so concerned about the weather in the Midwest right now, but at least she didn’t have to talk about that final meeting with the Living Grace directors. “We’ll be boarding in just a few minutes,” she told him, glancing at the time on her screen. “It’s fine.”
“How are you getting from Detroit back home?” he asked. “The roads are all shutting down. It’s a mess out there.”