The past 6 years has been a dark season for me. At times while inching my way through the valley of the shadow of death the only prayer I could remember was, “Abba, keep me close to You”. In a moment, the death of my health, marriage, finances, home, and even transportation caused me to wonder if my mind could take it all. Yet I found that it wasn’t usually too hard to praise my God anyway.
But then – on Easter of 2006, the accidental death of my youngest daughter, Rashida, challenged me, I thought possibly beyond any desire to thank and worship my Father, Son and Holy Spirit. The threat of that lie caused me to shout and praise with Him all the more. I tried to bury myself in prose but the struggle to write frustrated me – until I remembered that it had to be inspired to express itself on paper. I gave my words to Him again for a while and used the time to worship and love Him. Slowly, I was at least able to make personal journal entries.
This spring Rashida’s father joined her, and a month later my mother determined to join them both, but not before she had given me a lifetime of writing material; more stories that exemplified her nature only two days before her departure.
Finally, waking up one morning with words demanding expression already floating in my mind, I knew it had surely begun. The “it” we all wait for when we’re in measured sorrow. The knowing that we’ve made it through another fire without even the smell of smoke on us. The “it” that lives deep within our knowing that assures us we have favor with God and man.
And that not only have we entered into our personal season of blessing, but all that we endeavor to do and all who enter into covenant with us to accomplish God’s current task, aware or not of our God in the beginning, succeeds beyond what we can ask for or even think of.
My captian is as much at the wheel now as He was during the storms. He guides this ship of peace I find myself on, as long as I remember that I can still only inch my way through these exciting undiscovered waters. As long as my greatest prayer (now only one of many) remains, “Abba keep me close to You”.