To accommodate the quiet
time, I got up an hour early to pray. I
had a small notebook with pages upon pages of people and situations to pray
for. Once you got on my list, you didn't
get off. Even dying didn't take you off,
because then I prayed for your family.
And being a dutiful pray-er, I would ask God what he wanted
from me. Most times I would go on and on
about how I wanted to be used by Him, suggesting different things that I was
interested in.
But sometimes – sometimes – I would shut up and just
listen. Be still. Try not to think of anything. Well, of course, I would have these random
thoughts go through my head.
"I wonder if
Alice ever found her other shoe."
"Surely Mark has
finally picked up his room."
"I need to tell
David about that funny noise the car is making."
Or people's names would float through my mind or their
circumstances.
"I hope Mable is
feeling better."
"I wonder if
Randy got that job he applied for."
"The preacher
looked a little pale last Sunday. I hope
he's okay."
And I would try my best to ignore them all. They were intruding upon my quiet time, and
we couldn't have that, now, could we?
One day it occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, those
thoughts were the answers I had been looking for. I had asked God to use me, and then I ignored
his directions to me!
Perhaps I thought
of Mable because she could use a call from me or a note to cheer her up. I could call Randy and ask about his job
situation. I could stop by the church
office and look in on the preacher.
I came to call those thoughts "holy thoughts." They are not mine. I'm not that bright.
But God is. And He
loves us so.
