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Wednesday, February 23, 2022

Ask the Lord

Readers, this is a departure from what you're used to from me. After visiting with an elderly friend recently, I felt stirred to try to capture her essence in this brief anecdote. May you be blessed by the sweetness that is a dear saint named Peggy.

She sits in the semi-darkness of the cold February morning. Old and frail, her body has long since failed her, consigning her to home for all but the most urgent excursions. Stick-like legs, discolored and wobbly, carry her no farther than chair to dresser via walker to retrieve the few personal effects that make her feel attractive. Teeth, yellowed and disintegrating from a lifetime of service, can manage only soft, squishy foods; nevertheless, she eats with gusto, especially relishing the occasional chocolate brought by a friend.

But her spirit is as energetic as ever.

She carries on long conversations with the Almighty, praising His greatness and denouncing the wickedness of the enemy. She quotes from memory long passages of Scripture which assign Satan his just desserts, clapping her hands and turning up the corners of her withered mouth when she contemplates his eventual punishment. She takes both parts in her dialogues with the Divine, changing tone and inflection when speaking the words of her Lord.

“Thank You, my good and faithful Lord!” she exclaims before answering in altered voice, “You’re most welcome, my good and faithful Peggy!”

Confusion is her constant companion, and she often admits that; still, moments of clarity break through the murky thoughts, bringing joy to the visitor she had hitherto failed to recognize.

“Thea? Thea Williams?” she cries, as if suddenly remembering the answer to a complicated math problem. When affirmed, she beams like a child, gratefully accepting the offered hand and cooing over the gentle stroking of her ropey, distended veins.

“That feels good,” she murmurs contentedly, like a cat purring from a sunlit perch.

“Miss Peggy, let’s sing Amazing Grace,” her caregiver coaxes. She happily complies, pouring forth words from the timeless hymn in a strong yet quavering voice that must have mesmerized listeners before time took its toll on her vocal cords.

“What’s this?” her guest asks, reaching for a rumpled paper with scribbling in big block writing. The words have been repeatedly written and over-written, clearly demonstrating that the writer felt compelled to emphasize a message of great importance.

“Ask the Lord” declares the missive, and, upon further investigation, the visitor finds similarly underscored notes with the same content among the folded papers tucked away safely by her hostess’s side.

She has nothing to speak of in this world. Her small home, kept spotless by the ministrations of loving agency help, contains worn chairs and broken furnishings. Drawer pulls either dangle from the French Provincial bureau, which is the centerpiece of her living room, or have come off altogether. Cockeyed slats on ancient blinds allow light to stream unhindered onto the lady of the house. Outside, the wrought iron fence is literally falling down, and trash is strewn about the yard.

She cares not a whit about the dilapidated state of her surroundings.

“Ask the Lord” is her watchword, and has been for the past 30 years since she left a life she prefers to forget and joined ranks with the God of the universe. She prays regularly for a “third great awakening,” and counsels anyone who will listen to do the same. On clear-thinking days, she feasts on current events, gulping down huge helpings of talk radio and praying over the state of the world.

She is, in a word, faithful.

She makes it her business to phone people who matter to her. Too often, she’s forced to leave a message. She’s almost deaf, making conversations wearisome and frustrating for the other party; when her name shows up on caller ID, recipients find it easier to send the call to voice mail. Undaunted, she croaks into the recording, cautioning her loved ones about weather forecasts and world happenings and other things they could find out from the internet.

But she has one huge advantage over the world wide web – she holds love in her heart for her hearers, and constantly asks the Lord to watch over them.

Few will mourn her passing, but many will benefit from her having lived.

For part 2 of this article, check out Ask the Lord Part 2, AKA, Gratitude