|Hotel Majestic, San Francisco|
The Valley: Part4
Part of a "Journey to Charis"
When I returned from my walk, I felt lighter and encouraged. I was full from fellowship and had a little spring in my step. I had no idea that the next day, an immovable force would descend upon me and take up residence in my body.
She would crawl upon on me each morning like the weight of a lead shield.
She would accompany me everywhere I went.
She would weaken my muscle tone and leave a Jello-like frailty in its place.
Her presence would envelope my head and inhabit my body.
I would no longer be able to think clearly or process my thoughts and ideas.
The simplest tasks would feel like marathons.
There would be no more walks, bike rides, hikes, or travels.
Simply existing each day would require all my effort and conviction.
My life would be completely altered because of her...
Fatigue... chronic fatigue with a capital "F."
So the sisters have a malicious cousin, do they?
God knew she was coming, so he sent a messenger that afternoon. Whether or not he was an angel, I cannot say, but he most definitely delivered a message from a heavenly realm.
This mysterious "man" knocked at the door and asked if he could show Patrick some paintings. Patrick agreed, but said he wasn't interested in purchasing any paintings at the moment. No, buying a painting wasn't at all necessary. He just wanted Patrick's opinions. Which paintings did he like best? The paintings depicted scenes from Israel... Jerusalem, the Mount of Olives and such. Peaceful settings in the Holy Land.
Curious, Patrick asked the "man's" name. Are you from Israel? Yes, that was his home... Menachem's home. What does Menachem mean, Patrick asked.
Hmm... how do you say in English... like "everything is going to be ok." Later, we looked up the name in Hebrew. It means "comforter."
Menachem disappeared as quickly as he came. When we looked out the window a couple minutes later, there was no trace of him. But the message he bore has been hidden in my heart as I walk through this valley. A message God gave me twice that day... once in English and once in Hebrew.
Even through the darkest days, in the back of my mind, I cling to those words as a promise.
And I ask God to fulfill His promise to me.
I've reminded Him repeatedly... as if He might forget.
Because that's what children do.