Posts Tagged ‘witnessing’

I dashed in, my stomach growling. I had to be NPO (no food after midnight) for my blood work to be drawn.

MP900444553[1]The day was not going well so far. I’d jabbed my eye with my mascara wand, blinking dark streaks half way down my face.  My garage door had decided to be in one of its finicky moods. It took three tries to get it to close. Then, a slow-moving truck insisted on being in my lane.  I was 10 minutes late.

As I signed in, it hit me. The doctor’s orders were still on my desk.  I caught one of the nurse’s eye. With profound apologies, I rushed back out, got in my car, clicked the belt and gunned the accelerator. Of course, I hit every red light there and back again.  Out of breath with my pulse in my ears, I sat back down in the waiting room, orders in hand, chiding myself for my stupidity. now 28 minutes late. “Why me, Lord?”

Another nurse called my name.  I followed her into the cubicle filled with vials and the distinctive chair where you lay your arm. As she clicked my name into her compute,r with her back to me, she asked, “and how is your day going?”

I huffed into my bangs. “it is the day the Lord has made, so I will…”

She turned, “rejoice and be glad in it.” Her expression darkened as she turned back to the computer. “I wish I felt more like that, ” she sighed. “I know I need to get closer to Him, but I don’t know how. I am not sure He is listening to my prayers.”

That familiar quiet nudge, the one you know it not from your brain, said to me, “Show her your card of your new book, Squeeze More God-time into Your Day.”

I am not a bold marketer when it comes to my writing. I hesitated, “Now, Lord? Really?”

But I knew that voice was spirit-filled.  I reached into my wallet and swallowed my pride. “Here. It’s my new book. Maybe it will help.”

She took it, then looked at the cover and the by-line printed onto the business card. She nodded, “I need this.” She put the card in her lab jacket pocket. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whimpered.

“Tell me,” I whispered back, my hand on her arm.

As she drew the blood she sobbed out her story.  After the vials were filled and the gauze secured onto the inside bend of my elbow, I rose, draped my arm around her and said, “May I pray for you?”

Afterwards, she smiled. “God sent you to me.”

I now knew why I was delayed – why I’d stabbed the mascara wand in my eye, why I’d left the paperwork behind and encountered all those red lights.  So I’d get her as my phlebotomist.  I told her so.

“I guess He is listening,” she sniffled.

Humility flooded my soul. I prayed for God to forgive my anxiousness and frustration and thanked Him for using me, unworthy as I am, as His vessel.

That night went I got home, a thank you email was in my inbox from this sweet stranger, now a friend in Christ.  She’d gotten it off my website.

This is the day the Lord has made. Rejoice with me and be glad in it.  

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