I'm convinced that we are always submerged in the grace of God. Some days, the forms that give shape to that grace are a little more recognizable than others.
Wednesday morning had been, well, pretty crappy. I really don't even remember what happened. The things that get me so worked up and ruin my day are never the things I remember. Which, I think, is a good indication that they really are not at all important.
Jordan and I had been in a drawn out, very tense conversation -- I guess you might call it a fight. By drawn out I mean that it had been going on since about Saturday night. By Wednesday afternoon, we had been able to draw some useful conclusions and we had finally covered some ground. But I think we were both still confused, and i KNOW we were both weary.
I went to work Wednesday night with a very heavy heart. All day, I had been crying out to God for him to show me his love. I felt absolutely defeated. I was the worst person living that day. I knew it. Do you know that feeling? God, I need redemption, I need grace, I need to know that my life is valuable to SOMEONE (anyone) else, I need to know that You love me.
I knew God had been with me all day. I never once felt that I was not in his presence. But, I sort of felt like I was standing in the dark and although I could see a light in the distance, I refused to move because I couldn't see what was directly in front of me. I needed a light shining on my path.
And then God began to make his grace take on very tangible forms. My manager had written little cards to all of us. In mine, she spoke directly to my feeling of being insignificant. She told me that people who cared about the world make a difference. She said I cared. I had not been given or given a hug all day. I like hugs. A lot. I needed one very badly. I started praying for a hug. Might seem silly, but God heard my prayer. Emily Stern saw my car on her way to youth group, and dropped by just to see me for a minute. Before she left, she wanted a hug. It was one of the best hugs I've ever had the privilege of having.
Still, I was discouraged. At about 8:30, Jordan texted me to tell me that he would be at his friend's house and that I should still call him when I got out of work. Deep breath. Give him the benefit of the doubt, Lindsey. He still wants you to call...
I got home around 9:40, texted Jordan, and started getting ready to get ready for bed. Five minutes, he told me.
I was in the bathroom, and I heard the doorbell ring. On my way out, I encountered Valerie (my roomate) standing by the door, but not moving. "Uh, do you think you could get that for me?" I didn't think anything of it, ran down the stairs and swung open the door.
And there he was. Jordan was standing there, Bible open, reading 1 Corinthians 13. I don't remember how far he got before I stopped gaping and hugged him. I'm not sure I've been so close to being in shock before. Grace flooded in like a rush of cold air on a hot day.
Jordan had made up a story to get the name of Valerie so that he could call her to notify her of his plan to come down. He moved some things in his schedule, used his comp time, and made plans to be at work at 11 Thursday morning instead of 9. He rode his bike to his friends' house, borrowed their car, drove 300 miles, and arrived about about 10p.m. He left at 5 the next morning.
I've told the story at least 50 times since, but I start crying every time I think about it. Jordan's hug is my safe place on this earth. He drove 600 miles to spend a few hours hugging me, a few hours to remind me of his love.
Jesus hears us. He is near. Some days, his grace is more apparent than others. But it is always being poured out like sweet, refreshing, nourishing rain on our parched and weary souls.
