INSPIRED BY A TRUE STORY

In late fall of 2001, Rachel Wilson, a ballroom dance teacher living in the small mountain community of Pine Lake, California, discovered her husband, Ben, in an extra-marital affair. Her initial response was much as might be expected—tears, anger, despair, thoughts of revenge and more. But, through a series of unlikely events she was led to an unexpected response – a 70-week journey of prayer with friends.

She wrote an email asking if anyone would commit to praying for her family for 70 weeks, not supposing many would agree to such a long endeavor. To her surprise, more than forty said yes.  

Week by week she shared the unexpected stories unfolding. And week by week her friends continued to pray, watching and waiting to see what God would do. 

Here, from the 65th week, is one of those stories.

From: Rachel Wilson

To: 70 Weeks Prayer Group

Subject: One Fine Day – Week 65

Date: February 19, 2003 

Dear Praying Friends,

I am thankful for this 70 weeks’ journey for many reasons. One is that I now go through my days with eyes wide open. I look to see what God is doing in my life that I might have something to share with you in these letters. I think, by this practice, I’m developing a sort of heavenly vision–learning to look beyond the mundane details of daily living to see God in the grocery store, in the line at the bank, at the movie theater, on the dance floor…

This is a habit I hope to keep when these weeks of prayer come to a close.

Most weeks I’m aware of so many blessings and lessons it is difficult to choose which to write about. This week, with February 14th taking center stage, the decision was pretty easy.

I believe Valentine’s Day is a difficult time for those who don’t have a sweetheart.

Some may be suffering from a loss brought on by death or divorce.

Other hearts have not yet known the magical moment of a shared “I love you” with that special someone.

Then there are those who may share a house, even children, with someone who doesn’t seem interested in really sharing a life.

This last kind of loneliness may be the hardest of all. A token card or gift from a person who once made a forever promise, but no longer takes the time to speak to your heart or hold your hand.

“Remember me?” you want to say, hoping for a glimmer of that old sparkle that once lit up eyes that no longer seem to see you.

I’m not saying this in a quest for pity. As a matter of fact, February 14th felt like a hug from God that lasted all day.

Here’s how it all unfolds:

It starts with an email message from a dear childhood friend: I hope you have a wonderful Valentines’ Day in the Lord and are reminded of how much He truly loves you!! You are His special girl and you belong to Him. Celebrate that love and that relationship. There is none better.

Then Emma and I drive to our local airport for a dance through the clouds. After our plane touches down on the runway one mountain range over, the two of us settle into a booth at the airport restaurant and enjoy some mother-daughter time while our pilot busies himself with the pilot-y things demanding his attention there (something about a tail dragging test maybe?). Upon his return from said duties, he treats us to lunch and presents each of us with a rose.

Our return flight (snack provided–candy hearts) takes us through a cloud tunnel. We skim the tops of towering clouds, shining bright against a blue, blue sky. Emma directs my vision to one of the clouds below us where the shadow of our plane is encircled by a perfect rainbow.

I have now taken this short trip six times and I’m still speechless with wonder at seeing the world from a four-place Cessna. Before these 70 weeks I had never been in a small plane. Perhaps that is one reason why the idea of flight will forever be connected in my heart and mind with this time of waiting. Every time I fly, the passage from Isaiah 40:31 fills my head (“They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles…”) and I open my eyes to the beauty of a nearly perfect world–for lifted high above the scarred and broken earth, patterns of design and order emerge and convince my heart of the truth in Julian of Norwich’s, all is well and all will be well and all manner of things shall be well.

Safely returned to earth, my heart is touched once again when I find an anonymous Valentine waiting in my mailbox.

My dad’s words on the phone are another Valentine gift: “Have I told you, I’m proud of you?” he asks.

I check my email and find two beautifully-written messages.

The first is from a young musician. A man who has struggled with pain and loss beyond what I can imagine. We have been exchanging emails and exploring issues of faith and art. This letter arrives in my inbox after his three-day hospital stay and includes a couple of poems written there.

The second email message is from a high school friend winding up a business trip, waiting in the New Orleans airport for his flight back to California. His letter is a beautiful illustration of the insufficiency of our human perceptions and the goodness of the One who gets us from here to there.

I head off to do an hour of data entry for a friend. When my work is done, he hands me two boxes of candy hearts–one for Emma, one for me–and says a few kind words that keep the warmth in my heart glowing as I drive home.

Emma gets ready for a Valentine’s Day date while I prepare to teach my one lesson of the evening (a single dad and his eight-year-old are scheduled for a father-daughter lesson as the prelude to a special father-daughter evening).

After the lesson, I return to an empty house armed with a favorite romantic comedy (One Fine Day–George Clooney, Michelle Pfeiffer, great soundtrack). I whip up a protein hot milk, heat some leftover broccoli with cheese and curl up on the couch for a Valentines’ evening for one (here is where I might be looking for just a little pity).

Just as the ending credits roll, before the tears on my cheeks have had a chance to dry, there’s a knock on my front door. Kristyn and her youngest daughter bearing a hot chocolate, a chai tea, and a mocha kiss. They invite me to join them for a hot beverage at Inspiration Point (a spot overlooking the lights of the valley). Once there, we sip our drinks, take a carefully-balanced walk along a parking partition and I finish up the evening by leading Gracie in a tango.

Back at home I get a call from my daughter letting me know she’s at her boyfriend’s house—hanging out with his family after their date. She says she’s just checking in, but I suspect, on this day that celebrates romantic love, she hopes her lonely mom is holding out okay.

I think about the people who have filled my day.

My childhood friend and my dad.

My daughter, my dance student and his daughter, Kristyn’s daughter.

And then there’s my pilot friend, my hospital friend, my data entry friend, my old high school chum at the New Orleans airport, Kristyn, and me–six members of the lonely-hearts club making a connection on Valentine’s Day–all six of us left by the people who once gave us a til-death-do-us-part promise.

I may not have spent Valentines’ Day with one dear, devoted man whispering sweet nothings into my ear over a candlelit supper, but I had a day overflowing with friendship and beauty and candy and flowers and sweet words.

I think of all these gifts and I think of James 1:17 telling of the Father of lights who sends every good and perfect gift even on this Valentines’ Day—a day that is often difficult for those who don’t have a sweetheart.

I think of all these things and,

all things considered,

I’d have to say,

for this lonely heart,

it was one fine day : )

Trusting in Him,

Rachel