I've Got Work to Do

Lying in the bed watching the rays of sunlight crack through the blinds I mused over the fact that the sun was rising earlier and earlier these days. As I told myself the day would soon begin, my husband who was already up poked his head back in the room to announce that our son was not home from last night. My brain began to do a ticker tape dance as I assigned venues for him; girlfriend, side of rode, hospital, jail. After beating the covers and swinging and missing the pillows I reached for the telephone to start calling around. I needed my car, I had promised to be somewhere at 9:30am and he was jeopardizing that commitment.

A few hours later I found him and my car, both in a mess. Why Lord? Why this thing again. What are you trying to say to me? Why does stuff keep happening? I had just learned that I might have to go back in for surgery to remove a hernia and I wasn’t a happy person. Why couldn’t this young man get himself together? A phone call from one sister was a little helpful, but I could tell she wasn’t having any of it.

While out driving I reflected on how none of the previous challenges of the past year had made me cry. But this was the end, I was livid and teary and angry. I called the one sister whose shoulder I could cry on. Explaining everything to her she said, "You need to get somewhere and meditate and ask the Lord what he wants you to do."  Yeah that’s probably what I need to do I told her. I thanked her for listening and drove home.

The small baskets and boxes that I was packing away sat on the table waiting for my return. Stuffing old CDs, books and tapes in one designated box kept my mind off the problem at hand. What Lord? Tucked away in a small desk top monthly filing case I found a couple of ink pens and yet another cassette. These cassettes were everywhere. I looked at the label and recognized my sister the songwriter’s handwriting. Great, maybe this is one of her songs that I really loved. Now on the hunt for a cassette player I discovered one hiding under my bed. Not bothering to brush off the dust I slipped the tape inside and immediately the tears began to flow. I had never really grieved her death of six months. She was such a prolific songwriter. She always tried to tell me. I knew she was, but her method of getting discovered was completely annoying.

Now lying on the floor I forgot about the pressing business with my son and just let the music minister to me. That’s it, that’s what He wants. The lyrics explained we’ve got work to do. I had been so sick, so cautious of maintaining my recovered health that I was not in the field doing His will. Wow! What an epiphany.  Now eyes wiped dry, and knowing that He’s going to handle that other business, I’m ready.