85 Years Young

She's aging the way I'd like to.  Healthy and small, she's sharp, laughs a lot, and is so active it's hard work keeping up with her. 

When she called on my birthday, she asked if I tell my age, and without hesitation I did.  "Oh, you're so lucky!" she said, "I would love to be 59 again!"  There was such a wistfulness in the way she said it.  But before she could say more, I told her wait a minute, did she realize that she's somebody I want to be like when I "grow up"?  We talked on like we always do, giggling and excited by each other's news. 

I met her when I was the newcomer of the family and we had gathered to say goodbye to her husband of  more than 50 years.  She doesn't remember me being there then, no wonder.  But I was drawn to her instantly, liked how gracious she was to all of us crowding around her home.  I couldn't help being haunted by the passion in her voice when she said she didn't want any of us to leave.  When she hugged me later, she seemed so tiny and vulnerable, and I knew these were the hardest days of her life.  My heart broke for my new friend, and that's when I started praying for her.

Now our get togethers are happier times, a couple of nights now and then spent in one cousin's home or the other.  The days are filled with some kind of mild adventure, a show in Branson, a museum in Kansas City; and after an enjoyable supper we pull out game sets and play for hours.  Always during our visits there are stories told of how things were for them growing up in the Depression, some we laugh over, and some that simply make us shake our heads.  But even with all the desperation behind those old family tales, the saddest story came from her mouth one day unexpectedly.  My heart broke for her again, and that's when I started praying a new prayer.

She had grown quiet one day when our conversation turned to the afterlife, then suddenly she blurted out, "I just don't believe there's anything after we die.  I want to, but I just can't.  You all probably won't like me anymore, but I can't sit here and pretend to believe like you do."  "We love you...what makes you think we won't like you anymore just because you believe differently?"  Then she told us how all her adult life, as soon as she had admitted these thoughts to Christian friends, they snubbed her and she was no longer a part of their circle.  It happened to her over and over, she said.  Eventually she stopped expecting any "Christian love" to come her way, stopped putting herself out there to be rejected by church-goers.

Since my friend told us this ugly truth, I have prayed as the Word says I should:  "Father, I pray You will send out laborers to surround this dear one with Your truth, Your unconditional love and mercy.  May she be "good ground" having ears to hear and receive Your Word into her heart.  I thank You that Your Word does not return to You empty, but it accomplishes the very thing for which You sent it.  Her times truly are in Your hands...I call her saved, born again from above, in Jesus' Name."


Until the day comes when she tells me the most exciting, most radical news of her life, I will simply love her.  I won't judge her.  I will love her with the love of Jesus.  I will not expect her to behave a certain way.  I will love her unconditionally.  I won't make fretful demands that she repent before it's too late.  I will love her patiently, kindly, the way He loved me - right into His arms.

That day is coming.  A new babe in Christ, she'll tell me all about it, and we'll laugh and cry and laugh some more.  And she will say her husband's deathbed conversion all makes sense to her now and that she is so very happy knowing they will see each other again.

Thank You, Father, for loving her all the years of her life, never giving up on her.  Because of You, I will love her, too.