Prayers

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Sam and I just came back from visiting Stepdaughter #3 up near Santa Cruz. She is at a Christian boarding school right on the ocean--a gorgeous spot, surrounded by strawberry fields under plastic. Yes, the strawberries are planted in long plastic-covered mounds. The irrigation water runs in the trenches between the rows. In the sun these fields look like bodies of water: shiny, bluish-black, huge. Behind the campus, down at the edge of the beach, stands several large fields of flowers: tiger lillies, hyacinths, daffodils, and jonquils. They are part of the campus industry, I think. These numerous plants, plus the rich blackish-brown soil, brought real joy to this country girl's heart. Every time I visit Northern California I fantasize about how wonderful it would be to live in that gorgeous place. The marine layer brings in moist breezes every day. The sunsets over the ocean are beautiful. And the listening to the waves roaring from our guestroom put us to sleep every night. It couldn't have been nicer.

On Saturday morning Sam and I got up early and walked down to the beach. There was a man walking a dog, huge heaps of rolled up seaweed, and a large group of seagulls. Of course, the plovers were running back and forth on their stilty legs, in and out of the waves, putting in the first of their 1,000 miles for the day. The sky was overcast and the waves were pretty rough. We were both wrapped in scarves and heavy coats--it is winter there and between the 40 degree weather and the wind, we were cold.

We didn't do much, just walked a bit, took some pictures and chatted. However, it was a significant time for me. The last time I was there was in 1997. I had gone there alone to pray and think about what I should be doing with my life. My clinical faculty position was good but exhausting, and without tenure there was no possibility of long term security. I didn't have a clue about what to do, but I was getting to the point where I had to do something. I felt stuck. And sad.

I grew up in a household where Mother told the story about praying that the next man in the church door would be her husband--and it was my father. I heard, year after year, ad infinitum, this story of answered prayer. Year after year I also prayed for a husband and there was one comedy of a relationship after another--or even worse--nothing at all. What was wrong with my faith? Was I so defective that no matter what I did, I was hopeless? I'd gone to therapy. I'd asked friends for input about my social skills or if there was something about me that I couldn't see that was scaring off men. I'd prayed and prayed and prayed. And I joined a couple singles organizations, much to my chagrin. I'd gone on more horrible dates than many women I knew. They were disastrous experiences, but I had at least done my part. Now I had to make life plans and there was no one to make them with. Just me. I had very little guidance, no financial support, and few ideas about what to do.

So I walked on the beach every day during my silent retreat. I wasn't interested in much else--just talking to God, thinking about what to do, resting, and reading my Bible. The first day there, I walked down the beach talking to God about how much I wanted to find a life partner.

"They're all broken or the walking wounded" I told God. "Just like these smashed sand dollars. There isn't a one that is whole. They all have chips in them or the bottom is missing out of them."

I walked on in silence as a thought was born.

"God, I've never been one to ask for a sign, or for some special miracle when it comes to men (even though to have a man would be a miracle!) I know there are millions of men in this world--probably a hundred or so who would think I'm a good catch. I only need one, God. Just one. The right one--someone who I would be happy with. Someone who is whole--not broken like all these shells. Could I have just one whole sand dollar? And that would give me hope that there is one man left--a good choice--for me?"

There. I asked the hard question of God that I'd never asked before. I felt foolish to be almost 40 and asking this kind of question. But I didn't have to tell anyone about it. I didn't ask about it again while I was there, but I did walk up and down the beach every morning and evening, looking at the sand. There wasn't one sand dollar to be seen.

The whole weekend was one of prayer. I thought I should probably go off for my doctorate somewhere, although I had no idea how I'd pay for it or where I should go. Nor could I imagine that any school would take me. I did want to leave California for some reason. I wondered if I really belonged here, being a New Yorker and all. But leaving seemed to be the direction that came to me during this retreat. I couldn't see my way clear to do it yet, but perhaps in time it would all work out somehow.

Sunday morning came. It was time to go home. I had not found a sand dollar but I'd talked to God about everything in my life that I could think of. Now I needed to talk to God about what the no sand dollar meant for me. It seemed that whatever I was to do in my life, it would have to be done alone. There was not going to be a man in my life at this point.

As I slowly walked down to the end of the beach, I walked past a man and his son running in and out of the waves. They were looking for some kind of shell or who knows--maybe sand dollars. They were empty handed, but kept scanning the freshly exposed sand to see what was there. I concentrated on the sand where I was walking. Okay God, if You are going to answer my prayer, it should be now because I'm getting ready to go home. I strained my eyes and ploughed into the sand with my feet. Surely there could be just one sand dollar on this entire beach.

As I got to the place where I could not pass further, the waves beat on an outcropping of jagged rocks. It struck me that I was going to be alone from now on and God had chosen not to give me any sand dollars. Perhaps there wouldn't be a husband for me. It was time for me to make peace with God about this. I stood on the rocks watching the waves hit the black pointy places and breaking in wild sprays up into the air. I was really disappointed and started crying.

"God!" I cried out. "If I'm not to have a husband and there isn't anyone for me, please just help me not to be bitter. But to live a full life and still do all that is required of me. I just don't know how I can manage it without emotional support. I'm tired and very lonely, and this is so painful. I've felt like such a reject for so many years--been the brunt of so many jokes. But if this is my path, I need for You to walk it with me because I can't... I just can't..."

There are times when all the tears have been cried and the anguish has been expressed, and there is nothing more. This was such a time. I'd been hoping for 20 years.

"Just please help me to be full-hearted and help me to do all that You have for me to do in this life." Then I added, "I know that Your will is perfect and that You have a thousand ways to provide for me that I know nothing about. I'll still trust You and believe in You, regardless. But my faith is little. I need You very much now as I go back and try to do what I'm supposed to do with my life."

It had been a silly thing really, to ask God to give me an unbroken sand dollar. But, I reasoned, He could have done it. And we're told to ask God for things. If my mother's prayer was answered because it was a reflection of her faith, why couldn't mine? I was embarassed by the simplicity of my own prayer, but keenly aware of my need.



I started back to the car. It was packed and ready to go at the top of the path down to the beach. I needed to "set my face as a flint" and go back to the busy life I had, to try to be useful and to make plans for myself to go to school. I was so disappointed though.

As I stepped ahead, my foot hit something hard. I looked down. There was a perfect sand dollar. It was teeny--about the size of a quarter. Hmmm. I smiled.

Thank you, God. It wasn't a stupid prayer.

It was small, but it was perfect and that was what I had asked for.

Smiling from ear to ear, I walked back toward the man and his son, still running back and forth in the waves. In the 300 feet it took me to get to them, I found 11 more complete, perfect sand dollars. Exactly where I had walked every day, and just a few moments before, scouring the sand, turning over every shell, digging my toes down into the sand--where there had been nothing for days. Now I had 12 sand dollars.



Isn't that just like God, I thought. Wait until the last minute, when all human resources have been exhausted, and when we begin to rest in what God can do for us--in faith.
My prayer had been answered twelve times over. I didn't think that just because I asked God for a husband who would be whole, just like a whole sand dollar, that I would suddenly have a husband. Or 12 husbands, or a husband in 12 years, or any other literal interpretation of what had just happened. I had wanted a sign that God could do what I wanted desperately to have done for me, that I couldn't do myself. And He could, and He did. I pictured God smiling over this little event. Yes, I am trustworthy, even when you don't think you can manage any more. And I will give you much more than you asked for. That's how I AM.



Was that the last time I wondered about getting married? No. But I had proof that God could respond to me in a way that I could understand, even if my faith dictated a prayer that others would not have prayed. I came home with my sand dollars and put them where I could see them often. A few were sent off to friends who were struggling with similar concerns. Something within me felt at peace.



So Saturday morning, it was fulfilling to stand on the beach with my arms around Sam, and thank God aloud that I could be there with my Promise.



I know that this story will turn off some people--those who don't believe in signs (yes, I have really been skeptical of these kinds of things, too), or who have other ways of thinking about what happened. But I wanted to share it here, because my prayers, wrung from my very sincere, longing heart, were responded to by a very great God.
He is able.