On that particular day, I was struggling. My mother would have called it “feeling blue”. Rarely did I experience such heaviness of heart, so I was confused by the tight grip the feeling had on me. I had decided to take a walk in the timber, on our family farm, thinking the fresh air and sunshine would do me good. The serenity of the farm had always served as soothing balm for my soul. But to my dismay, instead of pulling me up out of the sadness, each step brought tearful, bittersweet memories of lovely childhood days, spent peacefully with my grandmother.
I had loved to watch my grandmother roll out her famous homemade noodles in the humble, farmhouse kitchen. The distant “bob-white” call of a quail would waft into the open kitchen window, and with a wink and a grin, she would immediately imitate the call. I had felt safe and loved, and I longed for just one more precious moment from that distant place in time.
My thoughts turned to my dad, who was struggling with Alzheimer’s disease. So often, he would talk of his longing to “go home”. And on that day, in some small way, I understood that his confused and troubled mind must have been yearning for the soft, healing kiss of his mother’s love.
After my walk in the woods, I stopped by to visit him. As was often the case, I found myself feeling as though I were standing on the shoreline of a great black sea, desperately grasping for what was just beyond my reach. It was as if I stood, helplessly watching him slowly drift…deeper into the heavy mists of confusion. At some point, I knew that he would vanish forever into the uncharted darkness. All alone.
After the long day, my heart was heavy with tremendous grief and fear for the future. I laid awake that night, thinking of the events of the day. My mind churned with bittersweet memories of the past, and of the reality of my father’s future.
Then, I remembered something. A package had arrived earlier in the day, which I had not yet opened. I had ordered a couple of books from Amazon and was certain they were tucked inside the box. One of the copies was a used, out of print, inspirational book by one of my favorite watercolor artists, Sandy Lynam Clough. I opened the package and pulled out the copy with the lovely watercolor print sleeve.
On the inside cover, I noticed a handwritten inscription, which read:
“Susan, May your fears fade and your faith multiply! God is there! I love you!” It was signed “Amy”.
I was stunned; my mind reeling! I couldn’t believe my eyes. I read it over and over, trying to grasp the complexity. What were the odds?
How many different names could have been written on the page?
How many different books could I have purchased?
How many different days could the delivery have been made?
Nothing had ever been clearer than that moment. The Healer of all hurts, the Creator of all good things, had wrapped the undeniable gift of His Heart in a small, inconspicuous, page-worn book, which was appropriately entitled,
“Seeing God’s Heart When You Hurt”
Only Love, who spans all time eternal, could “imagine into being” such a poignant gift of hope!
While sharing the incredible story with a friend, I jokingly pointed out that I had been unaware of the obvious fact that God’s name must be Amy! She then shared a tidbit of information that tied this miraculous package up with a most exquisite bow. It seemed that the book was, indeed, inscribed by Love itself, for the Hebrew translation of the name, Amy, is
Today, I am sending Love and Light to you, in your darkest times of sadness and confusion. There is One, who is bigger than your problems, who loves you deeper than your hurt. In the Stillness, you will find Him there.
I would love for this story to find its way to the original friends, Amy and Susan, who penned and received the encouraging note, inside the cover of the book.
I believe this story is a beautiful picture of how complexly intertwined we are, and how a single act of compassion can far outspan the simple intent of any mere moment. And I believe that Love always reverberates in ways that we cannot fully comprehend.
If you would be so kind…please share this story on your social media page, to help get it out there on the vast cyber-highway. Hopefully, it will bless many along the way, and it will ultimately find its way into Susan and Amy’s homes.
If it does find you (Susan or Amy), please be sure to let me know!
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