When the Load is Large . . .

Why are we surprised when God answers our prayers?  And why are we even more surprised when He answers them His way instead of the way we had envisioned?  I prayed a simple prayer on that snowy Olathe, Kansas morning in February 2000.  I simply asked God to give me the strength to be more selfless and to provide an opportunity to put that selflessness into action.  God answered that prayer, just not the way I had in mind.

I was driving home from dropping Amy off at the school where she taught when I saw the answer to my prayer.

I had my whole day planned out.  I had one class that day and was off from work.  My plan was to go home to our apartment, skip class, sit on the couch all day, doze off here and there and not worry about a thing.  I was going to eat lunch at my favorite Mexican restaurant and drink Dr. Pepper.  Those were my only plans.  My dad calls these "veg" days.  You know, days when all you do is sit around and do nothing.  I remembered the prayer I had prayed that morning and I had planned on God answering that prayer the next day or even possibly in the coming weeks.  But God had other plans.  

I didn't see it immediately.  I was driving on the snowy road which ran perpendicular to our apartment complex entrance.  It was a really wet snow that had been falling for a couple of hours, with about 3 or 4 inches on the ground already.  As I pulled in I saw a lady pushing a shopping cart on the snowy sidewalk.  

"Man, that stinks," I thought.  "Why would you be pushing a shopping cart in the snow?"  

Like I said, I didn't see it immediately.  I pulled into our parking spot and glanced back at the lady pushing the cart one more time as I got out of the car.  As I unlocked the door and carried the Dr. Pepper into the apartment it finally hit me.  Why would anyone be pushing a shopping cart in the snow . . . unless they had no other choice?  

"No way, God.  I have my day all planned out.  I don't have time for this today.  I have things to do . . . you know, couch, doze, Chili Rellenos, Dr. Pepper . . .!!"  

I opened the front door so I could peek outside.  She was still walking.  Still pushing the shopping cart. But now it was apparent that she was struggling.  It was probably apparent before, but this time I decided to actually "see" instead of just look.  She was an older woman and she walked with a slight limp.  It would have been hard for her to walk through the snow without pushing a shopping cart.  I knew I had to act.  This certainly wasn't the "selflessness" I had planned.  There was no crowd to witness it.  There was no visible reward for this.   But I knew I had to act.  

I walked slowly toward her for fear that I would freak her out by approaching.  As I got closer I spoke to her.  

"Ma'am?  Can I help you?"  

She reached for her purse and tucked it under her arm to protect it as she turned to look at me.  I stopped in order to keep a safe distance . . . for her sake.  I was quite confident that she would probably just refuse my help and I would be off the hook this time.  I could then get right back to my important day . . . you know, couch, doze, chili rellenos, Dr. Pepper . . . 

"Well I'm just trying to get back home," she said.  She reminded me of my grandma.  It turns out she had run to the store to grab some essentials before the snow that morning and when she got back in her car in the store parking lot it wouldn't start.  

"I didn't know who to call," she said, "so I just started walking."  

Now the store wasn't too far, but it turns out she was quite a ways from home.  In fact, she had lost her bearings and wasn't even sure where she was.  It didn't take long for me to help her get her directions straight and she agreed to let me help her by pushing the cart.  It was tough.  The wheels had gotten to the point where they weren't spinning any longer because they had become so packed with snow.  It was more like pushing a sled that didn't slide very well.  The walk was fairly quiet.  I tried making small talk but it was apparent she wasn't too interested in talking.  I think she was probably wondering if I had in mind to run off with her cart.  Instead, I wrestled that cart through the snow almost a mile to her apartment complex and then up to her door.  I helped her unload her groceries and then turned around to walk back home.  As I began walking away, she stopped me with her voice.  

"Sir," she said.  "I don't know how I would have done that without you.  In fact, I began wondering if I was ever going to make it home.  That was a big load for a little old lady," she said with a laugh. 

"It's no problem," I replied.  "I'm happy to be able to help."  

Dealing with the death of Thomas has been a big load to carry.  As I look back on the past 85 days there are some things that are becoming a little more clear.  The load is getting a little lighter.  It all changed for me on the evening of January 21st.  I was in such a fog that I seriously didn't know if I'd ever find my way out.  I was trying with all my might to push this load home.  The problem was the load was too big for me, and I wasn't quite sure where home was.  

On that night I finally quit trying to push it myself.  I wanted to carry it myself.  I thought I was capable.  I thought I could "fix" everything.  I sat in my recliner late into the night and I wept.  I wept uncontrollably because I felt such a sense of helplessness.  I was lost.  I couldn't even see through the fog, let alone carry this load home.  

I've heard people talk about "giving our problems to God."  I know that the Bible talks about "casting our anxiety upon him," but I didn't know how to do that.  What does that look like.  All I knew to do was pray.  So I prayed this prayer:

"Lord, I can't do this.  I'm trying to carry this myself and it ain't working.  I don't know what else to do but ask you to carry it for me.  I can't do it.  Help me."

I must have prayed that prayer a hundred different ways that night.  As I sat in that chair and continued to pour my heart out to God I began to feel the weight being lifted.  I began to see the fog being melted away ever so slowly.  I began to see that there really exists a "peace that surpasses understanding."  

That's a big load for little guy like me to carry.  I'm happy to have the help.  We have a God who's happy to help.  What's weighing on you?