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Transparent Thoughts

The Winds of Dawn

Thursday, April 1, 2010 • Marcia Swearingen • Hope

If I ride the morning winds to the farthest oceans, even there your hand will guide me, your strength will support me. Psm. 139:9-10 (TLB)


            Almost four years ago my husband Jim walked our only daughter down the aisle at church and placed her hand in the palm of the young man who will share her life from now on. After the wedding, our new son-in-law took his bride home to his military duty station in Hawaii.  Early in our marriage Jim had also been stationed at Pearl Harbor. Back then our parents came to see us. After a year, we decided to do the same.


It was a wonderful trip to a beautiful place with many special memories. Every morning at 6 a.m. the mynah birds wakened me from sleep heralding the arrival of a new day. I slipped downstairs while everyone else slept, made coffee, and watched the sun rise over the mountains. It was magical and so reminiscent of former times--feeling the breeze on my face, hearing the tinkle of wind chimes and smelling sweet fragrances from the blossoms in my daughter's garden. Surely Eden must have been something like this. l relished the chance to spend the time with my heavenly Father.


My prayers were for family and friends whose needs came to mind. I thanked God for a safe ten-hour flight and for relative freedom from the chronic hip and leg pain I'd been experiencing for months. Two weeks before, my doctor had administered an epidural steroid injection for pain, but his diagnosis of osteoarthritis weighed heavy on my mind. I'd watched a family member suffer from this debilitating disease and I was determined not to let this steal my joy. "Help me stay focused on You, Lord," I prayed.


On the flight over I had been reading Something More: In Search of a Deeper Faith by Catherine Marshall. It was a book I'd read long ago and, on impulse, had picked up again for the lengthy trip. Now, as the palm fronds swayed, the trade winds ruffled the pages of that book and I experienced a strange sense of déją vu. I saw a younger woman, heavy in heart, searching the same pages, caressed by a similar breeze. How could I have forgotten? It was here that I first read this book, anguished over my inability to conceive. And now, just when I needed it most, came the dawning-I was sitting in a garden belonging to the answer to that long ago prayer--in that long ago place! I was never able to have children, but less than a year later God abundantly provided through the gift of adoption.


Stunned by such symmetry, I felt the warmth of His smile. He'd handled my past so beautifully--I decided to give Him my future. And He gave me His peace.

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