When it Mattered Most

It was an island day, the kind we experience here on Long Island in late spring; wild and windy, with clear blue skies and a magnificent sun. I was making my way into a large office building when an elderly gentleman hurried to catch up with me in an attempt to open the door. “What a gentleman”, I thought as he quickened his step. Now the door, on this blustery day, was itself a force to be reckoned with; one of those immense, heavy doors, and add to that the strength of the wind! I stepped aside and thanked the gentleman for his kindness. He was a small, dapper fellow-flat cap atop his neat, white-haired head and cleanly shaven. I supposed him to be about eighty years old. As he struggled to pull the door open, I just prayed he would be able to so I would not feel compelled to join in the effort and unintentionally minimize his manhood. Mercifully, he triumphed, and we walked through together. I thanked him again and patted him gently on the back.

(Personal disclosure: What on earth was I thinking by patting a stranger on the back! In an instant it came to me that my good husband often ribs me about my perpetual back patting- as if somehow I imagine that little touch will make everyone and everything okay…funny thing though, both of our daughters have told me, “ Oh, but it does, Mom…(insert heart emoji!)

We went along, side by side toward the elevators when he stopped, turned to me, and said,

“This is some beautiful day. But it seems I’m at the point in my life where every beautiful day turns out to be just another trip to the doctor…”

I patted him on the back once again. “I know, I know…” I answered and met his gaze with understanding. “I know how that can seem.” He reached out and pushed the button to call for the elevator. Little could he have imagined the pathos rising within me. Truly, I understood his meaning.

As we waited, I studied him closely. He was impeccably dressed; even his shoes were polished. A beautiful jacket and a neat, collared shirt peeking out from beneath it. He turned to me once more and continued,

“But you know, you can never let it get you down. You can’t let it overwhelm you. You have to keep moving forward one foot in front of the other and then, well, at the end of the day, we just do our best knowing everything is in God’s hands.”

My eyes were so filled with tears that I could not answer this person I had never met before, so I just stood there nodding and of course, I continued to pat the gentleman on the back.

The elevator opened; he gestured toward it and said, “Ladies first.”  I stepped in, intending to turn to him and make some kind of effort to acknowledge his remarks, but when I turned, he was still standing outside the elevator as the doors closed. He gave an almost smile, put his hand up as if to say goodbye, and that was it.

Alone in the elevator, I genuinely began to wonder if he was an angel for several reasons. Number one, I still found it hard to believe he could have thrown open that colossal door himself.  Secondly, his appearance was flawless- not one hair out of place on this gusty day. Last of all, his spiritual insight. I mean, this is New York, not some Bible Belt state down south, where even the guy who pumps your gas will slap your car when he’s done and call out, “Okay, y’all-have a great day! Lord bless ya!”  His words were not only meaningful to me, but at that moment-on that day-my heart was so overwhelmed as I was attempting to process an enormous amount of self-talk and speculation and concerns…trying to keep each assailing conjecture in its own lane; endeavoring to decide which thoughts were groundless to begin with! I would imagine some of my readers know the process. It is as if I have to stop everything, call a meeting of all my thoughts, and address them:

“Okay everyone- just calm down, everyone be quiet- I know you all have concerns so I’m going to address them now:

You-fatalist-you’re first.  You’re the one who’s always telling me how it’s all over and how there is no possible good outcome- but the truth is you don’t know that! Only God knows the outcome, so we’re not going there…go to your room and don’t come out…

And you-the weeping prophet-you’d have me locked in my bedroom crying and moaning all day-why even get dressed or eat? Why even bother with anyone or anything? You want me to focus on myself all day long, but I want you to know that I have decided that is too high a cost for me to pay-you’re done…

Lastly,  I want to address three of you together- doubt, self, and fear- you three gang up on me and are absolutely the worst! You try to reinforce beliefs of hopelessness and despair…  but how dare you tempt me not to trust God? The last thing I need in this trial is to listen to any of you-you’re finished!

I have found self-talk can be regulating as it helps me place my faith in God and focus on gratitude, worship, trust, and the power of prayer.

Now, I know the Bible reveals we can be in the presence of angels yet be unaware of such a marvelous thing. Then again, perhaps he was an ordinary man who just needed someone to talk to at that moment, and I just happened to be there. I once read a little quote that often comes to mind: “Everyone,” it said, “is fighting some kind of battle…be kind.” Seems like the words “Be Kind” are emblazoned on everything from coffee cups to T-shirts. Kindness is good. But we could add other behaviors as well: be aware, be in the moment, be thoughtful, be gracious, be selfless, be still…

When I arrived at my floor and stepped out of the elevator, for a split second I thought about turning around and heading right back downstairs to see if I could find the gentleman. If anything, only to tell him how powerful his words were to me on that day, and that as a Christian I do believe that all the events of our lives are in God’s hands and, more importantly, that I am in his hands. Nevertheless, appointments must be kept; there is always the tyranny of time, so I hurried to where I was to go.

Later, back downstairs as I exited the building, I found the door was a breeze to throw open. Outside, the sun was still shining brilliantly as before, but the wind had calmed down considerably,  no longer a force with which to be reckoned. That was a relief. The people hustling and bustling exiting and entering that office building wore varied expressions; mostly pensive, as if lost in thought. Some walked in earnest, some in apprehension. Everyone was bearing some kind of burden, each one headed through the same door to different doorways, which led to different rooms and, doubtless, different outcomes.

It is often a tightrope walk, this life. As for me, my step was lighter-though not one burden I carried when I first entered the building had been lifted. However, they shifted position to Someone who is able to do exceeding abundantly above all I could ever ask or think,  which made the load effectively lighter. Funny thing, it took the candor of a stranger to remind me and admonish me with that great, sustaining truth: God is faithful. The goodness of God in the life of a Christian is everywhere. We only need to shift our focus to acknowledge it.

“…when my heart is
overwhelmed: lead me to the
rock that is higher than I.”

Thank you so much for reading!

In Christ, Who is our life,

Liz