My Gideon Prayer
Have you ever prayed a
prayer like this…”Lord I just don’t know
what job you really want me to have. I
just don’t have any confidence in my own choosing. Would you please just give me a Gideon
experience, with out the sheep’s skin?
Just please bring me a job that you want me to have. That way I will know it is from you. I won’t go looking for one. I will just wait on you.” …and then He
answered it? If you have, then you know
all about those Holy Ghost goose bumps.
I cried for over a week about quitting my job. I kept asking myself, “What person in this
economy quits a job”? I am 53 years old,
where I am going to find a job? Lord, what have I done to my family”? As a believer I know that these kinds of
questions can cause a spiritual spiral straight down to depression and I really
didn’t want to go there again. So I
prayed. Yes, I prayed that Gideon
prayer. And then I waited. Nothing happened. I waited again, and again nothing
happened. So I figured that God was
telling me no. “No, he was not going to
answer another Gideon Prayer from this babbling child”. Without an answer from God there was only one
thing left for me to do. Find one on my
own.
Days went by after I had decided to find a job on my
own. I was searching through the paper, for
the second week in a row, crossing out every job listing that needed a specific
skill that I didn’t have. Nursing? No. Office
Manager needed who was proficient in Access and QuickBooks? I could do a little
but was far from proficient so no. Insurance
Agent? Nope, not for me. I went through
the whole paper this way, not a good thing for a delicate ego. I threw the
paper down and decided to go out and work in the garden. Anyway, wasn’t that what God told the His
chosen people to do while they waited for the promise land? Besides, I knew the scripture…God shall supply
all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.
So, there I was up to my elbows in dirt in my garden when my
neighbor from across the street came by with a note. She handed it to me while she explained that
she had a missionary friend who needed someone to help with their aging mother
who suffered from Alzheimer’s. The job would last for about a week and at the
end of that time the family was expecting a young woman who was moving to the
community to take over. Ok, stop the truck! I had so many goose bumps I had to
go after a sweater. Not only did God answer my Gideon prayer, He got me a job
taking care of an elderly missionary! I love the elderly! I could set and listen to their stories for
hours! I was elated!
I started on a Tuesday.
I showed up to their house that morning.
They walked me through my responsibilities and then left for work. Miss Jean’s room was right off the family
room and had a big window that faced the back yard. Its décor consisted of a hospital bed adorned
with a soft comforter and a few fluffy pillows, a recliner that enabled her to
stand up from sitting, a small table with two chairs, her TV, a small book shelf,
and some interesting pictures of her and her family. It was the master bedroom which meant that
the bathroom was conveniently connected.
Our routine was a simple one.
Each morning I was to help her out of bed into the bathroom. There assist her as she dressed for the day,
brushed her teeth, and fixed her hair.
Afterwards, I would guide her to the wheelchair and push it up to the
table for breakfast. Then off to the
kitchen to round up some oatmeal and bananas.
When she was finished with breakfast I would clean up the table, and get
her positioned into her recliner. Then
it was time for us to visit. We had
about an hour to two before it would be time to help her into bed for an
afternoon nap. Around noon one of the family
members would then come to relieve me of my duties. I just want to say up front
that it was a privilege and not a duty to be there with her. Of course, I would
soon find out that I wasn’t really there for her. She was there for me.
The first day I didn’t get much response from her, neither a
smile nor a grunt. She just seemed to
float through the routine like a small child.
I couldn’t get her to make eye contact with me or respond to anything I
said. So I just began talking. I told her all about myself. I told her what my name was, where I lived,
all about my husband and all about our kids and grandson. I pretended that she understood. For all we know she just might have. Before long I was all talked out and it was
time for her nap. I closed the curtains,
helped her into bed, gently closed the door, and sat at the kitchen table with
my book. I was reading Boundaries by
Cloud and Townsend. A friend had told me
about it and then a couple of days later my sister told me about it so I took
that as a omen from God that He wanted me to read it. (I realized that I have boundary issues. Part of why I quit my job)
It was a very quite time. The only noise came from the birds
around the complex. After her
daughter-in-law showed up I left. All
the way home I keep thinking about our one way conversation. I wondered what it was that God wanted me to
do. Was it to ease the mind of my
brother and sister in Christ? Was it
just simply to care for one of his precious children who had served him so
mightily in the mission fields? I concluded it was both and was determined that I would do some research on Miss
Jean and try to find a way to get her to communicate with me the next day.
As
I lay in bed that night I recalled the unusual picture sitting on her shelf
beside the recliner. It was of two young
women; they where standing at what seemed to be the jungle edge and one of them
was holding a monkey. I knew they were
friends from the look that they gave each other. That picture captivated my thoughts to the
point that I had to get up and do some research on the younger Miss Jean. I rolled out of bed and headed for the
computer. I heard that she had written
some books so my research started there.
I was determined to find out more about this frail bit of a woman.
Wednesday’s routine started out a little different. One of the girls from the Division of Aging
came by to help Miss Jean to a warm shower.
While she was bathing I sat and looked at the room through the eyes of a
trained cultural anthropologist (what I had once hoped I would become). I
studied the pictures, the books, and the devotional book by her bed. The style of clothes she wore the music she had
to listen to, and once again the pictures.
I recalled the information I had gathered on her the night before from
some excerpts in her first book. I was
beginning to get a picture of the kind of woman she once was. She was someone who helped blaze a missionary
trail to tribal people’s she grew to love, a woman who had a kind of
relationship with her Creator that I could not fathom. Yes, God had something special in mind here
and I was going to do my best to oblige him.
When she was done with her shower it was time for her
recliner. The girl said her good-byes,
and it was finally time for our visit. I
began to talk only to find that Miss Jean was too tired to listen. She fell asleep and didn’t wake until it was
time to lay down for her nap. I was sorely disappointed.
Even
though the work wasn’t hard, I was constantly worried about hurting her. Her skin was very fragile and I didn’t want
to bruise her when I was helping her from chair to bed. I also wished that I
had been in better shape. Over weight
and over fifty wasn’t a good combination for lifting the elderly. I tucked her in and decided to do some
laundry. Before long I was at the table
again with my book. I couldn’t help but
wonder again why I was even there.
I determined that night that I would take along my CD player the
next day so I could play the CD that was on her shelf. I thought I would bring along some of mine
own music too. I thought that I would
read some from my book, Boundaries, to her also hoping that she would like
that. I thought I would ask her about those pictures. Who were the women in the
jungle shot? I bet it was her and maybe
one of the other missionary women she was in the field with. I would definitely show her the picture and
see if she would respond. That was my
plan.
Thursday came and I loaded my book, the CD player
along with my music into the car and headed out to bless Miss Jean. Now when I look back on that day I think
about the verse, A
man's heart deviseth his way: but the LORD directeth his steps, because
nothing went as I had planned.
I
started realizing how different the morning was from the past two when she smiled
at me upon arrival. She seemed to be talking to me with her eyes. You know what I mean? It was kind of like when you talk with a
baby. When you know, that they know what
you are saying, but they just can’t talk back.
She was very attentive. I felt like she really knew who I was. That she had remembered me from the days
before. She stared right down into my soul and back.
She
smiled all the way through the bathroom routine which got me thinking she might
want to get out of the room for a bit so I rolled her into the kitchen and parked
her at the front door. Her family had hung
humming bird feeders from the roof giving me the notion that she might enjoy
watching the birds while I made her oatmeal and bananas. All the way through breakfast she kept
smiling. Every once in a while she would
be at the edge of being tickled about something then go back to a smile. I was so excited that she was alert enough for
the visit I had planned. After breakfast
it was time for the recliner and our visit.
I
started by showing her the picture, the one of her and her friend. I asked her if she was on the mission field
when it was taken. Now what I have to
tell you next will be very controversial.
There are some people who will baulk and say I am crazy. Or that I was reading into the situation more
than what it was. But I know also that
there will be some who will understand the spiritual depth of what happened. Before I continue I want to share with you
that eyes are mentioned 482 times in the Bible.
Her
eyes began expressing so much, first I could tell that the picture meant a lot
to her and yes it was taken on the mission field. Then her eyes searched
through my existence, down to the depths of my core and the One who lives
inside of her, let her know, that He also lived inside of me. God’s Holy Spirit welled up in both of
us. I knew she knew that I was a child
of God. Isn’t that incredible? That she was concerned about my salvation
even through her condition. I took great
comfort in knowing that we would have much more time together than just these
few days.
I
proceeded as plan and slip her CD in my player.
It was kind of a mixture of southern gospel and classical. When a song came on that I knew I begin to
sign it in ASL. She watched me like a
cultural anthropologist would watch a tribe or better said like a missionary
would watch her tribe. I knew from her
books that she spoke several languages so I leaned over and teased her by
asking if she knew this one. She smiled
from ear to ear. My cup runneth over. Literally, it ran right out of my eyes. Her eyes filled with joy as she watched me
sign and at that point I thanked God that I was able to bring her some happiness.
After
her CD was finished I pulled out Selah from my collection and put it in. I told her that they were missionary kids
from Africa and that she would soon be able to
tell how much they loved the Lord. Her
eyes spoke through the music. I watched
her take in the words and lay back in her chair as if she were lying back
against the Lord Jesus. It was one of
those God appointed times in life that cannot be recreated with any amount of
human effort. It spoke hugely to my
heart.
When
the CD ended I picked up my book, Boundaries by Cloud and Townsend. I started reading where I left off the day
before while I was at the kitchen table.
They posed a question, “What areas of your life have too few
limits?” I laughed out loud and looked
her in the eye and said, “God sure does have a sense of humor when He is trying
to make a point. I have been doing a
Bible study, Beth Moore’s Breaking Free, and He just showed me the other night
that I was making food an idol and now He is reminding me of that”. She looked right at my tummy with a huge grin
and a bit of a chuckle. Do you know what
a muffin looks like? Yep, you got the right image. That is why she was
laughing. I love her sense of
humor. I confirmed her glance with a pat
on the fat which just tickled her further.
The Lord is so good.
There
are times in my life when I have had one of those God appointed moments that I
instantly become reflective. At that
moment, in the middle of our laughter, it was one of those times. It was if I had Alzheimer’s myself. I remember looking out the window and
thinking about a comment that Miss Jean’s daughter-in-law had made to me about
her. She said that Miss Jean was so
concerned about doing God’s will in her life that she asked Him once if it was
o.k. to read the Reader’s Digest. I
can’t grasp that. To have such a
relationship with the Lord that every moment of the day you were searching for
His will. Even to read. That was her walk and mine was to tear down
the idle of food. That instant I became
aware of the meaning of a sermon I heard once.
The preacher said that there will come a time when we will realize all
that God had planned for us. It will be
greater than our minds can obtain. The mansions
in Heaven overflow with blessing not received because of our little faith.
Miss
Jean was someone who had the determination to fully devote her life to
Christ. Because of that determination
she was able to minister to me in spite of her thorn in the flesh. As I told her how thankful I was to her for
listening to me and speaking millions to my heart about our Lord she shuck her
head slightly side to side as if to say, “It’s not me, it’s Him.” That is why I was compelled to write this to
whoever is willing to read it. My desire
is to show you how God worked through Miss Jean’s thorn in the flesh to teach
me about a dedicated level of service.
How determining in your mind that you are going to serve him a 100%
creates a disciple that never quits their job.
Not even at the end of their life.
Not even if they have Alzheimer’s.
The
day ended like the past two with me helping Miss Jean into bed, closing the
curtains, and returning to the kitchen table to read. Friday came and went like the past three and
I was driving away from that God appointed time reflecting back to my Gideon
prayer and that Thursday spent with Miss Jean.
That day is one of those days that a Christian has that impacts them
spiritually and changes their life forever.
I learned that a child of God is never to old or sick to speak loads to
you using their eyes, to invest myself into people, to never give up reaching
out to them for Christ, and that sharing simple joys with them can make my cup
runneth over, literally.
My Gideon Prayer
Have you ever prayed a
prayer like this…”Lord I just don’t know
what job you really want me to have. I
just don’t have any confidence in my own choosing. Would you please just give me a Gideon
experience, with out the sheep’s skin?
Just please bring me a job that you want me to have. That way I will know it is from you. I won’t go looking for one. I will just wait on you.” …and then He
answered it? If you have, then you know
all about those Holy Ghost goose bumps.
I cried for over a week about quitting my job. I kept asking myself, “What person in this
economy quits a job”? I am 53 years old,
where I am going to find a job? Lord, what have I done to my family”? As a believer I know that these kinds of
questions can cause a spiritual spiral straight down to depression and I really
didn’t want to go there again. So I
prayed. Yes, I prayed that Gideon
prayer. And then I waited. Nothing happened. I waited again, and again nothing
happened. So I figured that God was
telling me no. “No, he was not going to
answer another Gideon Prayer from this babbling child”. Without an answer from God there was only one
thing left for me to do. Find one on my
own.
Days went by after I had decided to find a job on my
own. I was searching through the paper, for
the second week in a row, crossing out every job listing that needed a specific
skill that I didn’t have. Nursing? No. Office
Manager needed who was proficient in Access and QuickBooks? I could do a little
but was far from proficient so no. Insurance
Agent? Nope, not for me. I went through
the whole paper this way, not a good thing for a delicate ego. I threw the
paper down and decided to go out and work in the garden. Anyway, wasn’t that what God told the His
chosen people to do while they waited for the promise land? Besides, I knew the scripture…God shall supply
all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.
So, there I was up to my elbows in dirt in my garden when my
neighbor from across the street came by with a note. She handed it to me while she explained that
she had a missionary friend who needed someone to help with their aging mother
who suffered from Alzheimer’s. The job would last for about a week and at the
end of that time the family was expecting a young woman who was moving to the
community to take over. Ok, stop the truck! I had so many goose bumps I had to
go after a sweater. Not only did God answer my Gideon prayer, He got me a job
taking care of an elderly missionary! I love the elderly! I could set and listen to their stories for
hours! I was elated!
I started on a Tuesday.
I showed up to their house that morning.
They walked me through my responsibilities and then left for work. Miss Jean’s room was right off the family
room and had a big window that faced the back yard. Its décor consisted of a hospital bed adorned
with a soft comforter and a few fluffy pillows, a recliner that enabled her to
stand up from sitting, a small table with two chairs, her TV, a small book shelf,
and some interesting pictures of her and her family. It was the master bedroom which meant that
the bathroom was conveniently connected.
Our routine was a simple one.
Each morning I was to help her out of bed into the bathroom. There assist her as she dressed for the day,
brushed her teeth, and fixed her hair.
Afterwards, I would guide her to the wheelchair and push it up to the
table for breakfast. Then off to the
kitchen to round up some oatmeal and bananas.
When she was finished with breakfast I would clean up the table, and get
her positioned into her recliner. Then
it was time for us to visit. We had
about an hour to two before it would be time to help her into bed for an
afternoon nap. Around noon one of the family
members would then come to relieve me of my duties. I just want to say up front
that it was a privilege and not a duty to be there with her. Of course, I would
soon find out that I wasn’t really there for her. She was there for me.
The first day I didn’t get much response from her, neither a
smile nor a grunt. She just seemed to
float through the routine like a small child.
I couldn’t get her to make eye contact with me or respond to anything I
said. So I just began talking. I told her all about myself. I told her what my name was, where I lived,
all about my husband and all about our kids and grandson. I pretended that she understood. For all we know she just might have. Before long I was all talked out and it was
time for her nap. I closed the curtains,
helped her into bed, gently closed the door, and sat at the kitchen table with
my book. I was reading Boundaries by
Cloud and Townsend. A friend had told me
about it and then a couple of days later my sister told me about it so I took
that as a omen from God that He wanted me to read it. (I realized that I have boundary issues. Part of why I quit my job)
It was a very quite time. The only noise came from the birds
around the complex. After her
daughter-in-law showed up I left. All
the way home I keep thinking about our one way conversation. I wondered what it was that God wanted me to
do. Was it to ease the mind of my
brother and sister in Christ? Was it
just simply to care for one of his precious children who had served him so
mightily in the mission fields? I concluded it was both and was determined that I would do some research on Miss
Jean and try to find a way to get her to communicate with me the next day.
As
I lay in bed that night I recalled the unusual picture sitting on her shelf
beside the recliner. It was of two young
women; they where standing at what seemed to be the jungle edge and one of them
was holding a monkey. I knew they were
friends from the look that they gave each other. That picture captivated my thoughts to the
point that I had to get up and do some research on the younger Miss Jean. I rolled out of bed and headed for the
computer. I heard that she had written
some books so my research started there.
I was determined to find out more about this frail bit of a woman.
Wednesday’s routine started out a little different. One of the girls from the Division of Aging
came by to help Miss Jean to a warm shower.
While she was bathing I sat and looked at the room through the eyes of a
trained cultural anthropologist (what I had once hoped I would become). I
studied the pictures, the books, and the devotional book by her bed. The style of clothes she wore the music she had
to listen to, and once again the pictures.
I recalled the information I had gathered on her the night before from
some excerpts in her first book. I was
beginning to get a picture of the kind of woman she once was. She was someone who helped blaze a missionary
trail to tribal people’s she grew to love, a woman who had a kind of
relationship with her Creator that I could not fathom. Yes, God had something special in mind here
and I was going to do my best to oblige him.
When she was done with her shower it was time for her
recliner. The girl said her good-byes,
and it was finally time for our visit. I
began to talk only to find that Miss Jean was too tired to listen. She fell asleep and didn’t wake until it was
time to lay down for her nap. I was sorely disappointed.
Even
though the work wasn’t hard, I was constantly worried about hurting her. Her skin was very fragile and I didn’t want
to bruise her when I was helping her from chair to bed. I also wished that I
had been in better shape. Over weight
and over fifty wasn’t a good combination for lifting the elderly. I tucked her in and decided to do some
laundry. Before long I was at the table
again with my book. I couldn’t help but
wonder again why I was even there.
I determined that night that I would take along my CD player the
next day so I could play the CD that was on her shelf. I thought I would bring along some of mine
own music too. I thought that I would
read some from my book, Boundaries, to her also hoping that she would like
that. I thought I would ask her about those pictures. Who were the women in the
jungle shot? I bet it was her and maybe
one of the other missionary women she was in the field with. I would definitely show her the picture and
see if she would respond. That was my
plan.
Thursday came and I loaded my book, the CD player
along with my music into the car and headed out to bless Miss Jean. Now when I look back on that day I think
about the verse, A
man's heart deviseth his way: but the LORD directeth his steps, because
nothing went as I had planned.
I
started realizing how different the morning was from the past two when she smiled
at me upon arrival. She seemed to be talking to me with her eyes. You know what I mean? It was kind of like when you talk with a
baby. When you know, that they know what
you are saying, but they just can’t talk back.
She was very attentive. I felt like she really knew who I was. That she had remembered me from the days
before. She stared right down into my soul and back.
She
smiled all the way through the bathroom routine which got me thinking she might
want to get out of the room for a bit so I rolled her into the kitchen and parked
her at the front door. Her family had hung
humming bird feeders from the roof giving me the notion that she might enjoy
watching the birds while I made her oatmeal and bananas. All the way through breakfast she kept
smiling. Every once in a while she would
be at the edge of being tickled about something then go back to a smile. I was so excited that she was alert enough for
the visit I had planned. After breakfast
it was time for the recliner and our visit.
I
started by showing her the picture, the one of her and her friend. I asked her if she was on the mission field
when it was taken. Now what I have to
tell you next will be very controversial.
There are some people who will baulk and say I am crazy. Or that I was reading into the situation more
than what it was. But I know also that
there will be some who will understand the spiritual depth of what happened. Before I continue I want to share with you
that eyes are mentioned 482 times in the Bible.
Her
eyes began expressing so much, first I could tell that the picture meant a lot
to her and yes it was taken on the mission field. Then her eyes searched
through my existence, down to the depths of my core and the One who lives
inside of her, let her know, that He also lived inside of me. God’s Holy Spirit welled up in both of
us. I knew she knew that I was a child
of God. Isn’t that incredible? That she was concerned about my salvation
even through her condition. I took great
comfort in knowing that we would have much more time together than just these
few days.
I
proceeded as plan and slip her CD in my player.
It was kind of a mixture of southern gospel and classical. When a song came on that I knew I begin to
sign it in ASL. She watched me like a
cultural anthropologist would watch a tribe or better said like a missionary
would watch her tribe. I knew from her
books that she spoke several languages so I leaned over and teased her by
asking if she knew this one. She smiled
from ear to ear. My cup runneth over. Literally, it ran right out of my eyes. Her eyes filled with joy as she watched me
sign and at that point I thanked God that I was able to bring her some happiness.
After
her CD was finished I pulled out Selah from my collection and put it in. I told her that they were missionary kids
from Africa and that she would soon be able to
tell how much they loved the Lord. Her
eyes spoke through the music. I watched
her take in the words and lay back in her chair as if she were lying back
against the Lord Jesus. It was one of
those God appointed times in life that cannot be recreated with any amount of
human effort. It spoke hugely to my
heart.
When
the CD ended I picked up my book, Boundaries by Cloud and Townsend. I started reading where I left off the day
before while I was at the kitchen table.
They posed a question, “What areas of your life have too few
limits?” I laughed out loud and looked
her in the eye and said, “God sure does have a sense of humor when He is trying
to make a point. I have been doing a
Bible study, Beth Moore’s Breaking Free, and He just showed me the other night
that I was making food an idol and now He is reminding me of that”. She looked right at my tummy with a huge grin
and a bit of a chuckle. Do you know what
a muffin looks like? Yep, you got the right image. That is why she was
laughing. I love her sense of
humor. I confirmed her glance with a pat
on the fat which just tickled her further.
The Lord is so good.
There
are times in my life when I have had one of those God appointed moments that I
instantly become reflective. At that
moment, in the middle of our laughter, it was one of those times. It was if I had Alzheimer’s myself. I remember looking out the window and
thinking about a comment that Miss Jean’s daughter-in-law had made to me about
her. She said that Miss Jean was so
concerned about doing God’s will in her life that she asked Him once if it was
o.k. to read the Reader’s Digest. I
can’t grasp that. To have such a
relationship with the Lord that every moment of the day you were searching for
His will. Even to read. That was her walk and mine was to tear down
the idle of food. That instant I became
aware of the meaning of a sermon I heard once.
The preacher said that there will come a time when we will realize all
that God had planned for us. It will be
greater than our minds can obtain. The mansions
in Heaven overflow with blessing not received because of our little faith.
Miss
Jean was someone who had the determination to fully devote her life to
Christ. Because of that determination
she was able to minister to me in spite of her thorn in the flesh. As I told her how thankful I was to her for
listening to me and speaking millions to my heart about our Lord she shuck her
head slightly side to side as if to say, “It’s not me, it’s Him.” That is why I was compelled to write this to
whoever is willing to read it. My desire
is to show you how God worked through Miss Jean’s thorn in the flesh to teach
me about a dedicated level of service.
How determining in your mind that you are going to serve him a 100%
creates a disciple that never quits their job.
Not even at the end of their life.
Not even if they have Alzheimer’s.
The
day ended like the past two with me helping Miss Jean into bed, closing the
curtains, and returning to the kitchen table to read. Friday came and went like the past three and
I was driving away from that God appointed time reflecting back to my Gideon
prayer and that Thursday spent with Miss Jean.
That day is one of those days that a Christian has that impacts them
spiritually and changes their life forever.
I learned that a child of God is never to old or sick to speak loads to
you using their eyes, to invest myself into people, to never give up reaching
out to them for Christ, and that sharing simple joys with them can make my cup
runneth over, literally.
