We had made one promise to seven-year-old Charlie for the summer. We would add an Amtrak trip down the coast to San Diego and let him explore the USS Midway – the longest serving Navy aircraft carrier of the twentieth century – now an interactive look at history and a potentially awesome delight for a young boy. Promises are meant to be kept, but this one was becoming difficult. In essence, four households were being shifted around, and us and Charlie were caught up in the middle of it all. Realizing the USS Iowa was a lot closer to home, we made the suggestion to Charlie, and he was more than willing to make the change. With printed directions and a GPS, just in case, we set off to keep a promise and have a fun day. Dawn, part of the “we,” was coming from a different direction, but the goal was for us to meet at the parking lot where the USS Iowa is docked. With Charlie in the back seat of my car, we “thought” we were accurately following traffic directions, but with ports and berths and trucks, a hodgepodge of water inlets, and a maze of streets, some cut off, lots of turn-around’s, and unreadable street signs, we kept dodging the trucks and trying desperately to not wind up on a freeway going who-knows-where. It was be-strong-for-the-little-guy-in-the-back-seat time, and I fought my emotions and my growing frustration, empty of any self-dependence, overwhelmed with the mangled traffic.
Sometimes in those predicaments, even with an emptiness of self-dependence, since I am smart enough to at least know “I don’t know,” my praying capacity seems to vanish too, and I silently was begging for someone to step in and help. It was then my cell phone rang, and Dawn cheerfully inquired, “Where are you?” I really didn’t know where I was in relation to the Iowa, but I did find a street sign I could read, and we both suddenly realized we were only a few cars apart, and the turnoff to the Iowa was literally the next left hand turn. I looked around at that point and saw Dawn smiling from behind the wheel of her own car. Or, I sorta saw Dawn, but what I most saw was God. And maybe that sounds strange, but seeing her in that moment, I so clearly heard God speak, reminding me, Bev, I am here. I am watching over you. I will never leave you, even when you are feeling incapable of praying to me. Life does sometimes overwhelm, but my heart for you never changes. Amidst the mangled traffic, I am still God. I am your God. Amidst the detours and frustrations of life, I stay right beside you. I want you to know you can always, always reach out and grab my hand, but even when you forget, or you can’t, I am still embracing you, always.
It was an incredibly fun day at the Iowa for Charlie, and a heartfelt promise was kept, but I came away with fresh reminders from the God who loves me and who always, always cares. I did find a much easier way to travel home, four simple turns that had somehow eluded me earlier in the day. The Lord turned to me, lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me. He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to my God. He will never fail me, never abandon me. He is my helper. He is the same, yesterday, today, and forever.
– Bev
(Related Bible reading: Psalm 40:1- 5; Hebrews 13:5-9)
