It's Always Darkest Before the Fridge Door Opens: Enjoying the Fruits of Middle Age (16 page)

Sometimes the Answer
Is Right in Front of You

When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.
Helen Keller

Have you ever stood staring into the fridge wondering,
Where on earth is the blue cheese dressing?
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To make matters worse, someone else comes along, looks over your shoulder, and says, ‘‘It’s right there beside the milk. Are you blind?’’

We heard a story about a young boy named Pedro who kept riding his bicycle across the border between Mexico and America, lugging two bags on his shoulders. Every day the border patrol would stop Pedro to ask him what was in his bags. Pedro would say ‘‘sand,’’ and they would still make him empty the bags onto the ground to prove it. But Pedro wasn’t lying. The bags were filled with sand.

The next day Pedro would ride across the border again, and again the border patrol would stop him.

‘‘What’s in your bags?’’ they would ask.

‘‘Sand,’’ Pedro would answer.

‘‘Prove it,’’ they’d say. So Pedro would dump out both bags and show them the sand. Once they were satisfied, Pedro would scoop up the sand in his hands and put it all back into his bags. This daily routine went on for six months, with Pedro peddling across the border and the border patrol stopping him and making him empty his bags.

Then one day Pedro didn’t show up. The border patrol wondered what happened to the young man with the bags, but they continued with their inspections. Months passed, and finally one of the border patrol officers happened to run into Pedro in town.

‘‘Pedro! How have you been?’’ he said.

‘‘Fine,’’ answered Pedro.

Then the officer said, ‘‘Pedro, we know you were smuggling something across the border every day. Come on, you can tell me, what was it?’’

Pedro smiled and said, ‘‘Bicycles.’’

Sometimes, when we look back, things are so obvious. The next chapter reminds us of something we’re often too busy to discover, a last resort that should come first.

Never miss a good chance to shut up.
Will Rogers

¹
We have also stood staring into the fridge wondering what we’re doing there. Martha once put a dish rag in the fridge while she was cleaning up. Phil put ice cream in the fridge, then after it melted, refroze it. His children were teenagers. They thought it tasted fine.

Who Ya Gonna Call?

Whether you like it or no, read and pray daily. It is for your life;
there is no other way; else you will be a trifler all your days.
John Wesley

When I (Phil) was a little kid, my mother prayed for me every night. I would walk by her bedroom and see her by her bed, down on her knees. Once I crept up close enough to overhear her. ‘‘Oh, thank you, God, he’s finally in bed!’’

According to recent surveys conducted by legitimate companies who have the postage for this sort of thing, the vast majority of us believe in prayer, and most of us would agree that God does indeed answer prayer. Sometimes his answer is no, as in the case of my new bass boat request, or Martha’s trip to London, but he does answer.

Can you imagine what this world would be like if God gave us everything we asked of him? Little brothers the world over would never see their tenth birthday because sisters would have prayed for God to return their annoying sibling back to where he came from. And he would have done it. At least in a world where God gave us everything we asked for.

And remember in third grade when you prayed, ‘‘Lord, I just really really want that cute new boy to like me and to really really want to grow up and marry me. Oh, pulleeeze, please, please, please! I won’t ask you for another thing ever again! If you loved me, God, you would do this!’’ And there you would be, engaged in the third grade to some guy whom you would pray about in the fourth grade: ‘‘Lord, that new boy turned out to be such a jerk! I hate him, God! I don’t even want him sitting next to me, much less to grow up and marry me! He’s so immature! That noise he makes with his armpit drives me right up a wall! If he thinks I’m going to live with that the rest of my life, he’s got another think coming! If you loved me, God, you’d just make him go away!’’ Then in the twelfth grade, ‘‘Maybe I was acting a bit hasty, Lord. That new boy turned out to be pretty nice after all. And cute! I know you did what I asked and he hasn’t been in a single class of mine since, but could you back off on that request and put him in one now? And maybe even have him sit next to me. And ask me out. Pulleeeze, please, please, please! I know he still makes that awful noise with his armpit, but I think I can live with it now! If you loved me, God, you’d do this for me!’’ Then, after five years of marriage, ‘‘What kind of a jerk did you stick me with, God? I know I begged for you to make him love me, but there’s this other cute guy I met the other night, and I really would like to get to know him better, and I know I made a commitment, but if you really, really loved me . . .’’

It’s a good thing God doesn’t answer all our prayers. And what about all those promises we make to him?

‘‘Lord, if you just give me this one thing, I will serve you in the most remote corner of the rain forest.’’

God says, ‘‘You’re not even serving me now.’’

‘‘Well, sure, that’s now. But give me my request and you’ll see how much I’ll do for you.’’

So God gives us our request and he does see. He sees the closest we get to the rain forest is watching a special on the Travel channel.

When I (Martha) was a teenager, I remember praying for a guitar one Christmas. I wanted that guitar more than anything else in the world. I hinted to my parents, I even showed them the exact one I wanted every time we went to the store. But on Christmas morning, there wasn’t a guitar-shaped gift under the Christmas tree. I tried to act excited about my other gifts, but I had really wanted that guitar, and it was hard to talk myself out of the disappointment. But then my mother took me into one of the bedrooms, and there in the corner was my guitar. It wasn’t wrapped. It was just leaning against the wall. I couldn’t believe it! I had gotten my guitar! I was so excited I don’t think I put that guitar down the entire day! After that, I don’t think I picked it up. I never did learn to play that guitar. I had begged for it, prayed for it, dreamed about it, but when I got it, I just let it sit there and gather dust.

How many times have we done that with God? We’ve prayed, ‘‘Lord, if you’ll just give me this opportunity to use my talents or bless me with the job of my dreams, I’ll do this for you or that for you,’’ and when God does his part, we forget all about our promises. We just move on to the next request.

And amazingly enough, he keeps listening. That’s because it’s his nature. Our natural tendency is to let him down. His is to be faithful. Ours is to selfishly ask for things we don’t really need. His is to love us enough not to give us everything we want. Our nature is to complain about the place where we find ourselves. His is to know that what we’re going through is for our own good and to protect us through it but never lose sight of the goal.

Back in 2003, a most unusual event took place up in Canada, where Phil lives. Called the Heritage Classic, it was an outdoor hockey game featuring the Edmonton Oilers and the Montreal Canadiens. When the NHL announced plans for the game to be held in snowy Edmonton in cold November, most fans had one thought on their minds:
What? Are you crazy? Who will come? It will be minus-thirty-five degrees by game time!
But they were wrong. It was only minus twenty. And the fans showed up in droves. More than fifty-five thousand fans jammed Commonwealth Stadium to watch their heroes play. More surprising still was that the team received almost one million requests for tickets!

Rumor has it that one lady called the box office and was told the tickets were sold out. So she called the city of Edmonton. They directed her to the Edmonton Oilers hockey team. When she called the team, she was turned down once again. So she decided to call her son.

‘‘Wayne,’’ she said, ‘‘is there some way you can get me tickets for the game?’’

‘‘Of course, Mother,’’ said Wayne Gretzky. ‘‘It’s no problem.’’

Whether the story is true or not, we do not know. But this we do know. Talking to God is so often the last resort for many of us. We do the same thing as Mrs. Gretzky. We wait until we have no other recourse, no other place to turn. But it shouldn’t be that way. Prayer should be the first place we turn.

Prayer can do a lot of things. It can alter our circumstances and ‘‘altar’’ our desire to control them. It can change our hearts. It can change other people’s hearts. It can open our eyes. It can open the eyes of those who have hurt us. It can bring healing into our lives.

It can bring us peace. It can bring understanding to misunderstanding. It can bring about a miracle. It tells God how much we trust him. It tells God how much we love him. And it can tell him how much we need him. It’s our way of communicating with him. We can talk to him about our frustrations, our fears, our hurts, and our desires. We can ask him questions. We can thank him for what he’s already done in our past and for what he’s going to do in our future. We can apologize for the times we’ve failed him. We can receive grace and forgiveness. We can receive strength and direction. Prayer is powerful. And healing. And best of all, free. There are no roaming charges, and we don’t have to wait until the weekend to get a better rate.

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:38–39

Prayer does not change God, but it changes him who prays.
S. A. Kierkegaard

PART FIVE
Just Desserts
(The Best Is Yet to Come)

To believe in heaven is not to run away from life;
it is to run toward it.
Joseph D. Blinco

There’s a church in Tennessee that sits at the end of a road called Little Hope. When I (Martha) first saw the road and the church, I thought, who would want to go to a church on a street named Little Hope? But the more I thought about it, the more I decided that if you ever suddenly found yourself on Little Hope Road, it’s probably kind of nice to know there’s a church at the end of it.

We all need hope, the belief that something better lies at the end of this struggle. The conviction that what we see around us is not all there is. Hope gives us a reason to keep waking up each morning. To rise when we fail. To smile when the world says frown.

Church has always been a big part of both of our lives. When I (Martha) and my husband went through the ordeal of a stillbirth, the church we were going to at the time became like family. They encouraged us, prayed with us, and were there with open arms offering us friendship and hope during a difficult time in our lives. Our joy turned to three separate celebrations as three sons were added to our family. And our church family was there with open arms once again, to share in each of those celebrations.