One of
my aunts passed away, and I, my husband (Tim), youngest son (Quentin) and
newly married daughter (Kelley) were planning to drive to my hometown for her
funeral. Our family vehicle is a
nine-year-old, rusted, gas-guzzling mini-van which needs over a thousand
dollars of repairs. Understandably, my
ever-cautious husband preferred to make the trip in my daughter’s brand new
compact car. So about three days
before departure, he kindly asked her if we could drive her car to the funeral. To our disappointment, she politely said,
“No.” My husband then took the van to a
mechanic to have some things checked out before we put it on the highway for
the 280–mile day trip.
The day
before our scheduled departure, as my family enjoyed cake and ice cream around our
dining room table for my birthday, Tim, in a last ditch effort, asked Kelley again
if we could use her car. She replied,
“No, I think we should use the van.”
Once again, we felt let down, but respected her decision
because, well, it is her car. She can do
whatever she wants with it.
We
instructed Kelley to arrive at our house before 9:00 a.m. so we could be on the
road by then. She complained about that
being too early, so we suggested she just spend the night with us. She declined that as well. We understood. After all, she does have a husband.
The next
morning, as Tim and I were getting ready in our upstairs bedroom, we heard the
front door open downstairs and footsteps in the living room. Of course, that must have been Kelley, and we
mumbled that to each other as we rushed around the room preparing for the
trip.
Our
bedroom door was open, but I was standing near the back side of the door and
could not see anyone approaching or entering the doorway. I heard a voice from the other side of the
door saying, “You all aren’t ready yet?”
I assumed it was Kelley, but the voice did not sound like Kelley’s. Confused, I turned expecting to see Kelley
come in the room, but to my utter surprise, it was not Kelley. It was my daughter, Christen, who
currently lives in New Jersey! I
screamed in shock. Then I just wrapped
my arms around her and cried for a minute.
Christen is the only one of our five children who does live near us, so
we don’t get the blessed privilege of seeing her as often as we see our other
children.
Kelley
then entered the room and said, “This is why I couldn’t spend the night. I had
to pick her up last night at the airport.
This is also why I couldn’t let you use my car. There wouldn’t have been enough room for all
of us.” Out of that, I learned a very
valuable lesson about answers to prayers.
There
are times when we pray and ask God for things—things which seem good. Using our daughter’s brand new car seemed
like a better idea than using our old problem-ridden van. It was probably less risky and certainly less
expensive to drive. Yes, for sure it
seemed like a good thing to ask. But sometimes God says, “No,” just as Kelley did. And
sometimes that "no" is hard to take.
“Why would God say no?” we wonder in disappointment. Maybe because He doesn’t love me. Maybe He doesn’t care. Maybe He just wants me to suffer.
Kelley
loves us and she cares, but she said no because she knew something better was
going to happen for us and we would need the space in the van. She knew when we
saw Christen, driving the van would not matter at all. Our daughter was coming home, and we would do
whatever we had to do, even drive the van, to accommodate her. The same holds true for God. He does love us. He does care.
But He knows and sees things that we do not. He knows what we are asking for is good, but
He also knows, something better is on the way.
And of course, we made it safely to our destination and home again.
God,
help us trust You. Help us have
assurance that your thoughts toward us are thoughts of peace and not of evil,
and that you want to give us a hope and a future. Oh for grace to trust Him more.
