When I returned home from Arizona a week ago, I brought with me a few fresh lemons and oranges from an orchard there.
Since the rinds were not waxed or dyed as often happens in the grocery store, I decided to save them and grate them for an orange no-bake cookie recipe. I chopped those rinds in a chopper till they were very fine, and then I added them to my chocolate no-bake cookie recipe in place of peanut butter for a different twist.
It was interesting watching both Jonathan and Danny taste the fresh cookies as soon as they came home from work and try to figure out the different flavor!
But better than un-dyed orange rinds from Arizona, I brought a story of something that happened there.
It didn't happen to me but to my Christian friend who has been getting further treatments at the clinic. I will copy and paste an edited version of what I wrote to family:
"Saturday my friend Judy had to
have another blood transfusion...The day before all day long she was having serious issues which she was afraid would keep her from getting what she needed. But after desperately
praying, the next day she was fine and was able to go.
At the hospital a nurse involved in Judy's care was named Sarah. At some point, Judy asked Sarah if she was a Christian.
"Well,"
she said, "I grew up in the Catholic church. But my daughter has been
going to the Baptist church, and she says that she's been born again.
And she's trying to get me to be born again!"
There
was an interruption in the conversation, but later Sarah was back with
Judy and her husband Will again. Will brought up the subject again, and
Sarah asked, "Do you have to be in church to do it [be born again]?"
"No," Will said. "You can become born again anywhere! Anytime!"
"Now?"
asked Sarah. Her heart was in her voice. And Judy and Will gladly were
willing to pray with her right then! Sarah took Judy's hand and Will's
hand both, and they led her in prayer, and Sarah accepted Jesus as her
Savior!
We never know who God will bring across our path in the clinic, on the airplane, in church, or on the street.
A few weeks ago God had my path cross that of an old army vet who desperately needed God on his way to a relative's funeral. On the next two flights no such door opened. I greeted two ladies in my row but neither of them so much as said hello back.
It was obvious they did not want to talk.
So I let them be.
The next plane trip I sat next to a cowboy who had come to Rapid City for the stock show and who talked to the lady on the other side of him but not to me.
That was fine. I wrote in my journal, deleted old photos from my phone, and read a book. I thought about how God had been with me in the airport when I arrived that Wednesday morning, only to have to wait an extra hour and a half for a delayed flight due to heavy fog in Rapid City, my destination.
Some plane trips God opens doors to converse with other people; other times those doors close and I get to converse with Him.
After nibbling two boiled eggs I had brought along for breakfast at the airport, (how hard it was to pass the smell of warm cinnamon rolls in the bakery!) I had sat reading my New Testament in Luke, the story of the woman who came in the throng behind Jesus and touched the border of His garment. And I was sitting there in the airport, fingering the hem of my jacket sleeve, tears in my eyes, just telling the same Jesus that I was touching the hem of His garment, too.
You don't have to be in a meadow or by a sunny window to experience precious moments with the Lord.
I told about this moment to a friend back in South Dakota who promptly sent me the above picture and asked if I had ever seen it--the woman's hand reaching for Jesus' garment.
Not in the middle of a private devotions in one's prayer closet,
but in the middle of the throng--such as at the airport.
Precious moment--priceless picture--perfect Savior.
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