“Mimmy, I was knocking so loud and you didn’t hear me,” she cried.
It was 10:00 at night, my son’s farm next-door was just winding down after the flashlight corn maze. My grand-daughter asked her uncle to drop her off at the end of my driveway. Her plan was to come inside with me and wait for her daddy to lock up and come get her.
The plan seemed perfect, except I was in bed watching a program and never heard her pounding on the door. Finally, one of my boarders heard her and let her in.
She was rattled. “I thought you weren’t home! You have to leave a key somewhere,” she pleaded. “Not high, so a kid can reach.”
I was thankful she persisted. It was black out, and way too dangerous for her to walk all the way back across the fields to her daddy.
I remembered a time when her daddy was only five, he’d been invited to his friend’s house across the street. It was dark when it was time to come home, so he called. “Mom . . .” there was worry in his voice. “It’s dark. Will you watch me from the window?”
“Yes, can you see me?” I said waving. His little face appeared in their window.
“I see you!”
“I’ll stay right here and watch you all the way.”
I could see activity through the windows as he raced around to get his things together.
The phone rang again, “Mom, are you still there? I’m coming. I just can’t find my coat.”
As I leaned against the window looking out into the dark, I sensed the Lord speaking to my heart, “I am the waving hand in the window, child. My eye is strong upon you.”
Instantly, tears caught in my throat. I knew He was applying His grace to my heart.
Suddenly, my son burst through their door and ran like the wind up through the circles of light on their long driveway. When the Horse Chestnut branches blocked sight of me, he kept going, because he trusted I was there.
Again I heard, “I am the waving hand in the window of your darkness. Even when you cannot see Me, you can trust I am here.”
Closed doors, dark nights, we’ve all know times like this. They can rattle us to the core and cause us to relive old fears and hurts. That’s the time we need to say, “Thank You, God, Your eye is strong upon me.”
“That’s okay,” she replied nuzzled in my shoulder. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”
“Listen, love,” I said, holding her even tighter. “Even if it was two o’clock in the morning, and you did wake me up . . . you are never-ever a bother to me.”
Isn’t that just what Jesus wants us to learn. We are never a bother to Him. He will never leave us standing in the dark, afraid. And, unlike this grandmother . . . He always hears us when we knock.
Father, I know there are friends reading this who are feeling abandoned and afraid. Please, Papa, open Your door, and bring healing to their hearts and fresh, creative solutions for what they face. Thank you that You always hear us, and open the way to Your welcoming presence. In Jesus name, Amen.