Driving Miss Shirley
Her daughter asked me if I would. I had been visiting her regularly, first at the hospital, and then in the assisted living facility. It had become obvious that something-- namely Someone, was driving Miss Shirley.
From day one, standing beside her hospital bed, in the intensive care, we had watched the Lord's miraculous plan unfold.
The doctors were telling the family that they should prepare for the end. We talked and prayed in whispering tones, praying over her tiny still, yet fidgeting frame, nearly swallowed in the white of the huge hospital bed.
Funny how the miraculous can be working silently right under the noses of the medical. Thankfully, it did not take her doctor long to recognize that there was a spiritual force driving Miss Shirley, and within days, and a few short weeks, she moved to her room, from intensive care, and then took the short ride to the center close to home.
Excited for her new wheels (wheel chair) she began driving herself around her room, and soon down to physical therapy. A few short weeks of some not so good food, and some extra chocolates we brought in to build her private stash, and she was more than ready to return home.
That's when she asked me if I would be willing to drive Miss Shirley to and from her dialysis appointments three times a week.
Four-thirty in the morning she'd be waiting with her front door open. I'd drive her to the appointment and then drive around town, seeing I was already up, praying for miracles, praying for revival, and healing, and churches, and businesses, and maybe even for you. I'd stop home for a short nap and shower, and get my day started, only so I could go back and drive Miss Shirley home at nine.
I loved those visits. Chattering about both of us growing up up North. Fried tomatoes. Rice Krispie treat recipes, and how many marshmallows come in some brands. Trips to the market. Forever friends and more, and of course laughing just a little as she toppled slightly trying to wake up and walk to the car. She didn't want me to hold on to her, so I'd be right behind her with hands outstretched and ready to catch. I enjoyed those wee hour trips, and sometimes deep in our conversation, she'd have to remind me where to turn or where we were going. Our cheerful friend to friend banter cleared the cobwebs in my brain, and loosed my tongue. After I'd walk her into her appointment and get back to the car the outloud songs and conversation flowed naturally, this time with my best Friend, my heavenly Father. Those were refreshing mornings. A catalyst for where I am now.
Then one morning she asked me if I thought her hair looked nice and promptly informed me that she drove herself to her hair dresser the day before, and that her daughter was going to kill her. I knew right then that my days of driving Miss Shirley would be ending soon.
The plan was obviously God. His power was revealed. Such a miraculous and timely refreshing for both. Sweet memories of another Romans 8:28 season, and surely all things working together for good even when the enemy had other plans.
So I'm wondering...was Miss Shirley driving me? Or was I driving Miss Shirley?
From day one, standing beside her hospital bed, in the intensive care, we had watched the Lord's miraculous plan unfold.
The doctors were telling the family that they should prepare for the end. We talked and prayed in whispering tones, praying over her tiny still, yet fidgeting frame, nearly swallowed in the white of the huge hospital bed.
Funny how the miraculous can be working silently right under the noses of the medical. Thankfully, it did not take her doctor long to recognize that there was a spiritual force driving Miss Shirley, and within days, and a few short weeks, she moved to her room, from intensive care, and then took the short ride to the center close to home.
Excited for her new wheels (wheel chair) she began driving herself around her room, and soon down to physical therapy. A few short weeks of some not so good food, and some extra chocolates we brought in to build her private stash, and she was more than ready to return home.
That's when she asked me if I would be willing to drive Miss Shirley to and from her dialysis appointments three times a week.
Four-thirty in the morning she'd be waiting with her front door open. I'd drive her to the appointment and then drive around town, seeing I was already up, praying for miracles, praying for revival, and healing, and churches, and businesses, and maybe even for you. I'd stop home for a short nap and shower, and get my day started, only so I could go back and drive Miss Shirley home at nine.
I loved those visits. Chattering about both of us growing up up North. Fried tomatoes. Rice Krispie treat recipes, and how many marshmallows come in some brands. Trips to the market. Forever friends and more, and of course laughing just a little as she toppled slightly trying to wake up and walk to the car. She didn't want me to hold on to her, so I'd be right behind her with hands outstretched and ready to catch. I enjoyed those wee hour trips, and sometimes deep in our conversation, she'd have to remind me where to turn or where we were going. Our cheerful friend to friend banter cleared the cobwebs in my brain, and loosed my tongue. After I'd walk her into her appointment and get back to the car the outloud songs and conversation flowed naturally, this time with my best Friend, my heavenly Father. Those were refreshing mornings. A catalyst for where I am now.
Then one morning she asked me if I thought her hair looked nice and promptly informed me that she drove herself to her hair dresser the day before, and that her daughter was going to kill her. I knew right then that my days of driving Miss Shirley would be ending soon.
The plan was obviously God. His power was revealed. Such a miraculous and timely refreshing for both. Sweet memories of another Romans 8:28 season, and surely all things working together for good even when the enemy had other plans.
So I'm wondering...was Miss Shirley driving me? Or was I driving Miss Shirley?
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