Column: Information Station

December 2007

I was leading a women’s retreat in a brand new hotel in California. Between sessions, I made appointments to talk privately with conferees.

They came every half hour. We sat in the lavish suite that had been provided for me—complete with wet bar and fruit basket in the living room; terry cloth robe and hair dryer in the bathroom. As we talked, I realized that their stories were often an ugly contrast to our lovely surroundings. Some women were relieved when I didn’t slam them with words of judgment.

One attractive middle aged woman was particularly agitated. I expected her to jump up from her chair and pace any moment. “My father deserted our family years ago,” she began. “I miss him so much. People tell me I’m foolish, but I just know he’s going to come home any day.” I imagined her sitting on a bench at the front door like a grown up little girl, hands folded, ready to jump when the doorbell rang.

I knew how she felt because I’d been that little girl. My mentally ill father lived in an institution during my childhood. Each evening, I recited: “Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight.” I wish that Daddy would come home. Later that night, when I climbed into bed I followed it with a prayer. Make daddy well. Let daddy come home from the hospital.

Daddy did not get well. He did not come home.

The woman at the retreat had been waiting for a fairy tale ending to her life the way I once did. Would she ever be reunited with her father? I didn’t know. I did know from my own experience as well as that of women I’ve helped through the years, that life is not a Cinderella story. The guys in the white hats don’t always chase the guys with the black hats out of town.

While God does not change the past, He will redeem it. That is, He will use our tears to bathe the wounds of others who have lived lives parallel to our own.

He’ll do that for you.

Archives:
November 2007
October 2007
September 2007