I used to think that I didn’t have an answer for people when
they’d ask me how I know there is a God.
I struggled with this question my entire life. It wasn’t until I reached my 40’s that I
think the question became more pressing.
I may not have the best answer to this question but I do have one answer
that has clarified God for me. God isn’t
just a “He” to me anymore. God isn’t a
being in the sky or an omnipotent power that controls my thoughts and
actions. No, God has been revealed to me
in so many ways that I cannot define “Him” as just “Him”.
Perhaps this story will convince others that God is real,
perhaps it won’t, but it is a story worth telling because it convinced me of
His mighty power to answer our prayers - especially when we least expect
it.
Anyone who has read my blog knows that my husband and I
haunt flea markets and auctions on a regular basis. We take bargain hunting to a whole new level
– even attending a garage sale on our wedding day (ok, maybe it was just Bill
attending the garage sale, but you get the drift). So, auctions are in our blood so to
speak. It doesn’t matter the town or
state, if there is an auction around, you can bet we’ll sniff it out. From Florida to New Jersey, and every state
in between, we have found treasures galore!
NJ is where our roots are, but Florida is where we planted
ourselves 26 years ago. About eight
years ago I made a very special trip to NJ to visit my mother’s grave. It was the first time that I visited her grave
since her death in 1960. It took me years to discover the name of her cemetery
because her death, her very existence, was something that was never spoken of
in our family. I don’t think anyone can
truly comprehend the struggle I’ve experienced over my mother’s death. For most of my life I harbored bitterness
over losing her and not knowing anything about her. When I visited her grave I made a promise to
God and to myself that I would move on and spend time with the living. I left my heavy heart at the cemetery that
day and returned home with peace in my soul.
In fact, I wrote a story about that trip on this blog: Be Still.
Now, more than ever, I believe that it was perfect timing
that brought me to her grave eight years ago and it was perfect timing that
brought me to the auction in FL shortly after I visited her grave.
The auction house was one that we frequented regularly. On this night, they were auctioning the
entire estate of a Time-Life photographer who hailed from North Jersey. I don’t know how his estate ended up in Cape
Coral, FL, but it was clear that this was his private collection of photographs
and the collection completely filled the auction house.
There was one gentleman at the auction that was bidding on
every photograph. No matter how high the
bidding went, super bidder (the name Bill and I dubbed him) clearly had
unlimited cash. He undoubtedly had a
vested interest in winning back the entire collection and wasn’t about to let
even one item slip from his grasp. We
quickly discerned that it was useless to bid against this guy.
Towards the end of the auction we made our way back to the
box lots where we figured we had a chance to bid on something – anything. It wasn’t like us to leave an auction empty
handed, after all.
While Bill was busy buying his share of box lots, I was eying
a briefcase shoved under the table. I
assumed everyone’s attention was diverted by the current booty up for bid, so I
stealthily pulled it out and opened it to find more Time-Life photographs. Before I had a chance to sneak the case back
under the table, super bidder appeared at my side. I did my best to pretend the case was devoid
of anything worthy of a bid but I think I may have blown my cover by my
reaction to his looming presence.
“Oh, just a bunch of
old papers in that thing.” I stammered
as I shoved the case back under the table, “Nothing I’d be interested in.”
His glare told me that he wasn’t buying it for a
minute. I knew then that he had seen the
contents of the briefcase and any hope of my owning it vaporized in that
realization.
Well, to make a long story short, every item in the box lots
that had even one photograph was bought up by super bidder. I had resigned myself to not getting the
briefcase but I decided to bid on it anyway.
It was the very last thing to go up for auction that
night. It was just Bill and I, the super
bidder and few stragglers left in the auction house. The briefcase was placed on the table and the
bidding began with super bidder throwing out the first bid. I waited until the last possible moment
before I placed my bid. Super bidder
didn’t bat an eye as he nodded his head indicating he was in it to win it. Well, so was I! I bid again and waited for his nod. I waited.
This couldn’t be happening, my
mind raced, Am I actually going to win
this bid!
It was as if everyone left in the auction house held a
collective breath as the auctioneer counted down, “Going once, twice, all in
all done…” I looked at super bidder in astonishment as I heard those glorious
words…“Sold to the lady in the yellow shirt.”
The place erupted into applause as if I had spent a fortune
to win the briefcase. In reality, I only
spent $15.00. It was, at the time, a
complete mystery as to why super bidder bequeathed the briefcase to me that
night.
All I remember is his
faint smile as I took possession of the case.
It was as if he was saying to me, “It was yours from the beginning. I was just having a little fun with you.”
I was so excited! I
couldn’t believe my luck. All the way
home, I held onto the briefcase as if it contained a momentous treasure. As soon as we came in the door, Bill and I
started rifling through the briefcase like two little kids on Christmas morning.
I noticed right away
that these pictures were taken in NJ where the photographer lived as they were
more personal than the others. Some were
labeled with town names that I know are in North Jersey. As we got to the last few photographs, my
heart took a little leap.
“I remember this place, Bill” I told my husband. “It’s the duck pond we used to visit when I
was a kid. I passed by it when I was
visiting my mom’s grave. How weird is
that!”
“Wow, that’s cool.” Bill said as he moved the photograph
from the briefcase to the pile on the table.
I stared into the briefcase as the next photograph was
revealed. As the photograph came into
focus, my heart didn’t just take a little leap, it about bounced out of my
chest. I don’t know how long I stared at
the picture staring back at me, but it took Bill’s voice to pull me out of my
trance.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
I was barely aware of the tears streaming down my cheeks as
I tried to answer him.
“I…I…I…” For about five minutes, I couldn’t put a coherent
sentence together.
Finally, I picked up the picture and looked at the one below
it and the one below that. I really
couldn’t believe my eyes. There in the
briefcase…the very last three photographs were pictures of the three pillars
at each of the entrances of my mother’s cemetery.
Here’s the thing, I would never had known that these pictures
were from her cemetery had I not recently visited her grave.
I don’t wonder any more if there is a God. I know there is. I know there is because only He can answer a
prayer that hasn’t even been spoken yet.
Only God can show you something in such a profound way that it is
fathomless…how? How is it that I ended
up with those photographs on that night in that auction house in Cape Coral, FL
just a few weeks after visiting my mother’s grave in NJ?
I’ll tell you
how. It was God’s mighty hand reminding
me that He is always in charge. He knows
just what we need exactly when we need it.
I didn’t even know I needed those pictures, but I did. I needed them to remind me that letting go of
the past doesn’t mean that you don’t grieve a loss – you just look at the loss differently. It’s kind of like a photograph forever etched
in your mind’s eye, a part of your life’s tapestry. But, the photograph becomes a
reminder that the tapestry is still being woven. It’s a reminder that there will be more
photographs to fill the tapestry. Now, every
time I look at those cemetery pictures I am reminded that, had I stayed stuck
in the past, I would most certainly have lost the present.
