faith

Not Today

Diego Sideburns, Creative Commons

Diego Sideburns, Creative Commons

I was in my office on the top floor of the converted Victorian house.  I always arrived an hour and a half before the center opened so I could get some uninterrupted work done.  That morning I was engrossed in making plans for our upcoming annual banquet when the client services director arrived.  She came in through the back door and called up the stairs, “Have you been listening to the radio?”

“No, why?”

“A plane just flew into the World Trade Center!”

I raced down the steep staircase and flipped on the tv in one of the counseling rooms.

As we watched the tower collapse, a second plane flew into the second tower.  Suddenly we were aware that the first had been no accident.  We stood there stunned and sick.  The world had gone mad and life would never be the same.

Soon the volunteers started to arrive, and then the clients.  Around noon a young couple came in for a pregnancy test.  They were married but they were not ready, they could not have a baby.  They were in the United States on student visas and they had little money.

Our newest volunteer asked if she could talk with them.  She and her husband had been in a similar situation – young, in college, financially unstable – when she became pregnant with their first child.  She wanted to encourage them that things could work out.  I allowed it.

The client services director and the other volunteers were upset with me.  What if she blows it?  A life hung in the balance.  The new volunteer was a bit rough around the edges and awkward, but she had something to share so I trusted God’s sovereign pairing and went upstairs to my office.  And then I got on my knees and prayed – for the couple, for their baby, for the volunteer counselor, for the world that had gone mad.  And then God spoke.  He said, “Enough.”

“There will be no more killing.  Not today.”

And I knew He meant it.

Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy.  Psalm 126:5

I went back downstairs and told the group fretting outside the counseling room that the baby was going to be okay.

One year and one month later, the couple and their darling baby boy were the guests of honor at that year’s annual banquet.

And I made the mistake of serving pork.

This post was inspired by the Christmas ad in this post, and by the comment I left there.

Happy Monday.

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