From 40 to 32 . . .

“Only 32 hours?”  I was a little anxious.  It wasn’t the first time we’d dealt with a reduced workload.  We wouldn’t have 40 hours of work anymore, but we would still have income.  But then I remembered something.  A young friend had asked us to come to his house to test his new recording software.  He had requested a weekday, which at the time seemed unlikely.  But now with our 32-hour workweek, we did have an available weekday.  I made a phone call, set a date, and marked the calendar.  And, oh, how the day was blessed.  Playing the oboe required full breath, consequently cleansing me of anxiety.  All of my air poured into the horn.  Anxiety could steal none of my energy because every ounce of it was blossoming into a resonance that soon brought tears to my eyes.  Vibrato seemed to reach into all the nooks and crannies and bring joy to the full extent of my heart.  It was a transformation that I loved.  An experience I love to relive.  The Lord at work once again.

The weekday schedule

Decision time.  I felt surrounded by loose ends.  Work, Bible study group, music, exercise, writing.  It was the weekday scenario that left me uncertain.  Having prayed for days and weeks, still sensing no definite pull in any particular direction, I opted to stay where I was.  In the coming months, we saw my husband’s full-time job hold in place, which allowed for my part-time work.  The Lord so sweetly led our small Bible study group through some tender moments.  Some weekend opportunities for music arose, consequently easing the weekday concern.  A new writing idea came into play, which made me all the more appreciative for my part-time, rather than full-time, job.  And my exercise class experienced a new development, which has led me to pray all over again for how the Lord would schedule my time this next semester.  It was a matter of trust, and indeed His unseen hand was leading.  Psalm 121 says He will not let our feet slip. 

On the streets

“I was waving to my mom down there,” the girl told me, as she returned to our bench at the bus stop.  “My son is sick, and my mom is bringing him.  We’re headed to the hospital.” . . . We discussed her 5-year-old’s extended fever and lack of food and water.  She wasn’t frantic, but she knew her son’s body was very weak.  Here an opportunity to pray fell in my lap.  I was excited.  On a street corner near downtown, the Lord had orchestrated a meeting of two strangers who soon came to have prayer in common. . . . May the Lord thrill your heart to see His orchestration on the streets where you walk.