the oil of joy for mourning,
the garment of praise
for the spirit of heaviness...
Isaiah 61:3
Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing. Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity. 1st Corinthians 13.There could not be a more appropriate scripture quote in the entire written Word of God than the one you've just read for the story I'm about to share with you. As you listen, I want to assure you this is a true story--the events actually happened as I chronicle them for you. And if you have any doubts whatsoever about any of it, just imagine being the ones to whom this happened--it is all they can do to believe it, too. As each day passes, their amazement hasn't diminished in the least. As a matter of fact, each new day brings a clearer understanding of the mercies of God and His Amazing Grace.
It was a bitterly cold morning in the latter part of October, 2002. I had to take it slow and easy. Any kind of physical exertion left me exhausted and gasping for breath to the point my teenage daughter chauffered me most places I had to go. By the time I made it into the doctor's office, I had to sit down and rest.
I first saw the woman as she pulled into the parking lot. I thought little of it--probably just another patient to add to the already crowded waiting room. A few moments later, I saw her say something to the nurse and then point in my direction. I watched as she came down the hall and stopped about three feet from where I sat.
I didn't know her--I had never seen her before. She put her right hand out towards me and said, "Lady, you don't know me, but I have a word for you from the Lord." Now I don't know if I actually rolled my eyes, but I admit I had an "eye-rolling" feeling inside--who was this person? I must have looked dumbfounded to her--she told me her name, then added, "That's not important, but this is. The Lord wants to ask you a question." Without waiting for a response from me, she went on: "He knows you are ready to die. But He wants to ask you, 'Are you ready to live?' "
In 1975, a young man of 29 and a young lady of 22 were married. They had known each other since she was 9 years old. Roy had worked for her dad and his family attended the church her dad pastored. He had already established his own identity--Pat was still searching for hers, but his easy-going nature and great personality was the stabilizing factor she needed in her life. Their love for each other was so evident that folks who knew them often commented they'd never seen a couple better suited to one another. They had so much in common, he could start a sentence and she'd finish it. He idolized her and worked long hard hours to provide all he could for them. There was very little she ever wanted that he did not obtain for her. She adored him--but then she had been "smitten" with him for years and years.
Roy had always loved children and it was only natural for him to love her little son and daughter, both under the age of two, as if they were his own. In less than a year after their marriage, they had a child together. Their new addition looked so much like her very handsome dad--lovely dark hair, warm brown eyes, another precious little daughter for him to love and protect. Labor and childbirth had been long and difficult. He couldn't bear the thoughts of his beloved wife having to suffer that way again and had a vasectomy. They were happy and complete as a family.
At first, everything seemed fine, but within a few months, Pat noticed the new baby was too quiet. She was far too passive with total lack of stimulation by her environment. Even though the doctor had warned both parents when the child was born that "something was wrong", he had refused to be more specific. Hoping against hope that the child was just a "late bloomer", Pat took her to a pediatric specialist, who gave them an immediate diagnosis: cerebral palsy. Because the baby was so unresponsive, she was also diagnosed as blind and deaf, with severe retardation. She suffered from petit mal seizures, and during the course of what would prove to be a very short life, required several major surgeries.
Roy and Pat soon noticed a pattern beginning to take shape: every year around her birthday, The Little Visitor would get sick and require hospitalization. Then came that awful year: two days before her sixth birthday, she slipped from this life. Instead of gathering around a cake to celebrate a happy occasion, grieving family and friends gathered around her tiny little pink coffin as they laid her tired little body to rest in a quiet country cemetery.
To all parents, losing a child is unnatural. When the shock and sorrow began to wane, it was replaced with a sense of loss--not just of the child, but in their marriage. Pat blamed herself--she was a failure, or she could have done more. Roy blamed himself--he had lost his precious only child; despair was stealing his beloved wife. For however many reasons there were, the two of them couldn't seem to get their legs back under them. Instead of turning to one another for comfort, the loss robbed them of their closeness. Over the next few years, they drifted apart--and finally went their separate ways.
They knew the love they had for one another was so special, they decided to try to work things out between them, but Pat got scared. They had both made mistakes. She determined that hers was the greater error and the deep sense of guilt caused her to run away from the man who loved her so much. Even though he held her guiltless, she could not accept that.
Roy moved, alone, to a distant part of the country, where he soon met and married another woman. Pat moved away from the town in which they had both grown up and got married again. Love was not a factor in either of their marriages--as a matter of fact, Roy and Pat both chose new spouses that were as dissimilar from their former mates as possible. Pat had another beautiful little girl, and a lot of hurt and anger was healed by the child's birth, but her loss was still there. It had to have been all her fault--she was due punishment and she insisted on it.
Roy never forgot "his" children: through the years he tried to get in touch with them, finally succeeding once they were grown and gone from their mother's home. He got their addresses and wrote to them, asking to meet with them the next time he was "up their way". When his vacation rolled around, a time and place was set, but when they called to say they had arrived, his wife never told him. Roy never got the pictures of their children they sent.
In mid-2000 he spoke with Pat on the phone for a few moments, asking about the children and why they no longer answered his calls and letters. She had no idea--they had never told her what happened. It was so good to hear his voice once more. She knew he was still married and was afraid to say too much, even to ask his forgiveness for how badly she had hurt him. Roy wanted to tell her he had done wrong too, but he couldn't find the words to say before the phone call ended. Pat started a downward spiral into three years of severe depression.
In late January of 2003, Roy's wife died--he was alone again. Just a few days later, hundreds of miles away, Pat's violently abusive husband abandoned her and her youngest daughter. She had been praying for months that God would "deliver" her. She had meant through death, but deliverance came from an entirely different (and unexpected) direction.
Pat had been inactive for years, diagnosed with congestive heart. Her weight ballooned to over 300 pounds. Her heart was sluggish and irregular--fluid seeped from her massively swollen feet and ankles. It was all she could do to get from one room to the other, but still, she knew she had to find a job to take care of her and her daughter who was in her last year of school.
The first place Pat applied to for a job hired her in their customer service department. Standing on her feet for long hours was painful, but God gave her the strength to do it. Within a week of getting the job, her feet and ankles quit seeping fluid and by the end of her first month there, she realized her shoes and clothes were getting loose. She was losing weight! By mid-March, she was wearing 2 dress sizes smaller, and the pounds kept coming off. She found favor with her employers, who let her work more than just her part-time hours. In His ever faithful nature, God made a way for her and her daughter to meet their monthly obligations.
Her daughter graduated in the spring--Pat had once thought she'd never live to see it. That summer she was able to mow her yard--something she'd not been able to do for years. All year long, she met people from many walks of life and gained numerous friends. By September she had lost over a hundred pounds. The week after Christmas, she was promoted to Department Supervisor. She went for a physical check up and while there, inquired about her "congestive heart" condition. Her doctor sent her to a specialist who, after tests to confirm it, assured her she did not have anything wrong with her heart.
Without a steady diet of abuse, the quality of Pat's life steadily improved. Now there was peace and quiet in her home, but it was in those quiet hours that her thoughts once again turned to the love she had lost. She always included Roy in her prayers, and often tried to imagine what she'd do if she ever saw him again. Then she'd cry herself to sleep at night--knowing it would never be. Still, life had to go on.
In late August of 2004, Pat took the first vacation she'd had in well over a decade. While in her hometown, she visited friends who owned a small country store, nearly twenty miles from the nearest town. Of all the places in the world and all the days it could have happened, one of Roy's brothers came into that same little store that day. He was glad to see Pat and it was then she found out Roy's wife had been dead for over eighteen months.
Hope that she could talk to him burst forth--nah, it was too much to hope for. Still, she offered contact information if Roy should ever want to talk to her again. She didn't think it would ever happen--little did she know. Her vacation ended three days later and she reluctantly headed back home on Sunday afternoon to her lonely existence. Without Pat knowing it, phone calls had already been placed to that distant city where Roy had been so long. He didn't feel the way she thought he would: he never had.
Neither of them had ever quit loving the other--through the years she had often dreamed that Roy and she were together, just talking, being close to one another only to waken to the reality of a nightmare existence. Through the same period of time, when Roy was around his relatives, he'd often ask if anyone had heard from Pat and he'd cry, telling them how much he still loved and missed her.
Early that following Monday morning, the phone woke her. She almost didn't answer it--thinking it was probably her workplace calling her in early. For a few seconds, there was no reply to her, "Hello", but then the voice on the other end of the line said simply, "Hello, Doll." She would later recall weakly sinking to her knees on the carpet--it couldn't be, but it WAS! She would know that voice anywhere. After all that time, it was him! He whom she had loved and lost and yet kept on loving--living with the knowledge of her loss year in and year out. That same voice that she had hoped and prayed to hear once again, if only to tell him she was so sorry, spoke precious words of love and devotion once again. Love, unfailing, undying love--the 1st Corinthians 13 kind of love he had always felt for her.
Oh could it be? Could it be that, which she had taught others so fervently--had insisted was true for others--could it be true for her, too? How could it be so true for others, yet too true for her? It wasn't, and in a time which only the living, loving Heavenly Father could plan, the true meaning of 1st Corinthians 13's love was revealed in her life.
In the words of the songwriter:Love is patient, love is kind.
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking,
it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts,
always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails…
My prayer to God had been for deliverance from a painful, wretched existence. I wanted to die--that was the deliverance I sought. But God, in His ever perfect Way, had other plans and my complete deliverance came from an unexpected direction: instead of the death I sought, God gave me life and that more abundantly. And then He went on to restore that which I had counted forever lost. No wonder He wanted to know if I was "ready to live"!
I knew the foolish decisions I had made and felt Roy would never be able to forgive me; Roy knew the mistakes he had made and felt I would never forgive him--yet neither of us knew what the other one had done. Through the many hours of conversation, we both realized we had wasted so many years, tormenting ourselves with our own burdens of guilt. All I knew was I had lived too long without him for anything to be unforgiveable, and he felt the same way towards me.
On September 20, 2004, I took my very first plane ride to once again see the love of my life. Another brother of Roy's brought him to the airport to get me--there weren't many dry eyes around us that day. For years I had wanted to see a particular historial site in his state, but had long ago abandoned that dream. It never once occurred to me that it would be Roy who took me there, but he did and that made it all the more wonderful.
On October 11, 2004, Roy took his first plane ride to come and help the love of his life drive the rental truck back down to his home.
On October 23, 2004, we were rejoined in holy matrimony--reunited in our love for one another. ONLY God could ever cause such a thing to take place…
Another songwriter puts it this way:
Life will give you a broken dream, full of sorrow and fear.
Turn around, don't look back again. Face the new day before you.
Place your heartache in Jesus' hands: He can mend broken dreams."
by Nancy Harmon
Never stop.
Never give up.
Don't quit praying.
Commit it all to the Lord:
In The Hollow Of Thy Hand.
"Beauty For Ashes" Copyright © 2005 by Patricia Sikes.
All Rights Reserved.
By Dee and Danny Kramer
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