Open Writing

I'm holding back from God, afraid to trust in His will in case it means I will lose James, as I lost my mother. The air is thin, like walking on the sharp, slippery edge of a mountain's spine, nothing but deep, screaming emptiness on either side. Howard is angry and confused that a supposedly loving God can allow this to happen to children and I have no answer to that. My faith is challenged by him and others. But I know that if I let go of God's hand, I will be lost.

By the time of the fourth chemotherapy, I'm in quite a state. James' leg is huge and painful. The toxic chemicals aren't enough to halt the growth of the tumour. We meet up with Agnes and Foluso (the boy with a rare form of kidney cancer) at the clinic. The routine is to see the doctor and have several tests in the morning before being admitted to the hospital to begin the treatment later in the day.
After the initial check ups, Agnes is excited about something and invites us to her nearby home for our lunch. When we last met, I'd told her about the trouble I was having with my prayers.

Agnes sends the boys off to play on the computer and begins to assemble the ingredients for her amazing rice dish. The bright kitchen fills with delicious aromas.

'I've shared your prayer problems with my other Christian friends. They've assured me that we must ask God for what we want. In Matthew 7:9-11 we're told: Would any of you who are fathers give your son a stone when he asks for bread? Or would you give him a snake when he asks for a fish? Bad as you are, you know how to give good things to your children. How much more, then, will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him!' Agnes' huge grin reflects the relief I feel.

In the evening, Howard's brother, Simeon, phones and I tell him what Agnes said.

'You're not going to believe it,' his voice is excited, 'I'm ringing because I felt compelled to share the parable of the persistent widow with you. It's the story, in Luke chapter 8, about the poor widow who's been cheated. She goes every day to complain to the judge to do something. He's not a good man, or God-fearing but he helps her just to get rid of her. In verse 7, Now, will God not judge in favour of his own people who cry to him day and night for help? Will he be slow to help them?'

At last, I feel able to pray for my heart's desire and to hope that my prayers will be answered. I thank God for reaching out to me through these people and His word.

That night and the following day, as I drive to the hospital, I pray and pray for James to get well. When I finish my prayers, I listen to the radio, park the car, pop in to see James then nip to the toilet. As I walk back to the ward, across the star tiled in the centre of the small foyer at the top of the stairs, I distinctly hear a voice in my head say, 'James will be all right.'

Icy prickles flame my skin and I stop. The area around me is empty. I'm alone in the foyer. I know it isn't my voice in my head because I clearly hear myself cry, ' What?'

The first voice calmly repeats, 'James will be all right'. The knotted fears in my chest burst open and I blush to think that God should speak to me.

I run to tell James but not even his retort, 'What if He means I'll be alright in heaven?' or the mounting physical evidence to the contrary, can steal the
nugget of peace or the feeling of sheer wonder fully away.

*

I've had several experiences of that peace of God, the tiny stillness deep in my core where I'm certain of Him. Despite whatever panic, horror or chaos is going on round me, I know I'm loved and will be given whatever I need to face whatever comes. Just as when my mother died, the peace doesn't keep horrible things from happening but it enables me to cope, to learn and to go on. This is the essence of a life less lost. I'm stumbling along just like everyone else but I know I'm not alone and there is a plan for me, even if I don't know what it is.

Another time when God's peace made all the difference had to do with our finances. Howard enjoyed the physical work of tyre fitting, being his own boss and managing youngsters on training schemes. When Brian finally decided to sell the business to a larger company that had a few other tyre fitting outlets, Howard was made a director and got a pay rise, more responsibility and a better car.

Then, like a crack of summer lightening, Howard came home from work early one day to tell me the receivers were in, he was out of a job. His body was tense and there was a catch in his voice with the effort of marshalling his churning emotions. The owner of the company was not all that he'd appeared to be.

Howard had not been involved in the financial aspects of the business and, in his inexperience, had no inkling of any problems until the axe fell. Our children were two and four years old. I was taking time off teaching to look after them. We had no income and very little savings.

Because Howard was a 'director', the company car we enjoyed had to be returned but we were left with the repayments. What would it mean? Should Howard have another try at being a teacher? How long would he be unemployed? How would we manage?

Howard punished himself wondering if he'd missed something that could have enabled him to see it coming, to have prevented this disaster. His self-esteem took a blow just when he would need all his confidence to find a new job.

He applied for all kinds of employment. One of the hardest aspects of redundancy is the suddenly uncertain future. Being human, we kid ourselves that we know what tomorrow will bring. Trying to plan and make decisions when you don't know when or if you'll work again, is incredibly stressful.

One company called Howard back for a third interview and our hopes were running very high. When Howard phoned to say the other candidate had been given the position, I could hear the despair in his voice. A wordless 'arrow' prayer was answered in an instant and I felt an unexpected, peaceful calm, an assurance that something better was in store. Somehow I was able to convey that to Howard with absolute conviction.

One of the silver linings in black clouds is often discovering the potency of friendship. My aunt and cousins came to visit during this time and took us out for treats, someone loaned us a car, a friend let Howard work in exchange for petrol and many more people lent a hand. My cousin, Suzanne, a single mother herself, hid money around the house so we would find it later. Christine and Tony invited us for a meal and encouraged us to explain our situation.

At a subsequent business meeting, Tony gave Howard's details to a man called Darrell. He was looking for someone to help set up a small group of tyre and exhaust outlets as part of an expansion of the existing company, a chain of retail shops selling motor accessories. Within a day or two, Howard was in Darrell's office having a 'chat'. The boys and I were waiting at a nearby supermarket and I felt as though my stomach was being whisked as the time crept by.

Howard got the job. It was a position within travelling distance and was ideal, as opposed to the job we'd been hoping for when he'd made it to the third interview. Had he been successful then, he would have had to travel to
Northern Ireland and be away from home three or four nights a week. God's fingerprints were everywhere.