Heirloom: When God Doesn’t Do What You Think He Will

The painter sat on the linoleum floor that sunny Wednesday morning, a black garbage bag spread out under the freshly stripped kitchen chair. Slow, deep, breathing could be heard in the kitchen as the canister was tipped back and forth slowly. Paint rolled, and the paint lid was pried open. The colour was a beautiful shade of blue, “heirloom” blue. 

The painter grasped the wooden brush handle, dipped the coarse bristles in the thick, sticky, paint and swept it up the side of the container, discarding any excess. Smooth and rich, the first stroke of blue was swept over the freshly sanded chair. Bristles moved slowly over the surface bringing life to the old tired wood as the painter knelt by the chair and prayed.

Something about the slow monotony, the slide of the brush across the surface of the chair brought peace to the painter’s heart. Praying for the young woman so sick in her hospital bed for so long; praying for her children left in the care of family members while she fought for her life. Perhaps today would be the day she’d get her miracle; everyone was certain of it. Now moved to a hospital with more advanced technology, now awaiting the transplant she so desperately needed, faith rose up in the painter’s heart. Faith as small as a mustard seed; the painter had more faith than that for this! Celebration would come. Healthy and whole, this Mama would return to her two littles. Family, her community of support and everyone would see the hand of God on her life and celebrate. The Painter thanked God for her healing.

And then a sound interrupted the painter’s praise. Rising for the phone, surprise and confusion tried to sort through the message. “She is with her creator.” 

As the pieces fell into understanding, the tears fell silently too. 

This can’t be right. 
How was this your perfect plan?
I had faith for this one!
It’s not fair! 
What about her children?
I have no words.
Confusion. Anger. Grief. Disbelief. 

The phone began lighting up. Confusion, anger, grief and disbelief coming from all her people. The painter sat hard on the floor.

A memory squeezed through the tears from a hospital visit just a few weeks before. The woman had shared with the painter a poem she’d written to her Creator. “If I don’t make it through this storm, it’s enough that you walked with me. You love me.”

Somehow, it’d be enough. He was enough. The painter picked up the brush, dipped it in “heirloom” and made another brush stroke of trust.

Joshua 1:9 (ESV)Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”