God, Can I have my Keys?
I wrote this story before we were all under attack from satan's destruction. Still, now, I like most am isolated and spend some of my days writing to keep myself busy. I do want to share the story with you because sometimes we must have faith and believe that God knows us and will protect us, although we might not understand why we are in our circumstances.
Monday, I hate Mondays, I thought to myself as I played with my teabag, dipping it up and down in the steaming water while walking back to my office. Another day at the office where I work as an Account Manager for an insurance agency. Too many years of insurance, too many negative things heard; too much witnessing the wrong side of people sometimes my area of expertise, makes loving others hard. The only redeeming factor in working there was the people that I worked with.
"The Company needs to inspect that house," I told her, looking over her shoulder at a policy she was working on.
"Yes, I know," Sandra smirked.
Mondays were hard for a lot of us. I giggled at her efforts in preparing herself for the challenging day as she shoved the folders on her desk from one side to the other.
The office was chilly that day; it was cold every day. Barbie, another employee, was always hot and continuously turning the air conditioning to freezing temperatures, she forced us all to buy heaters for our desk. I snuggled myself within my sweater, pulling it tightly around me with my free hand. Heading to the warmth of my office, I noticed someone entering through the door. An older lady, neatly dressed, but in distress about something.
Just go into your office, Barbie can take care of her, I told myself. When she stepped inside, our eyes made contact, and the woman gazed at me like a lost puppy. Barbie saw the communication between the two of us, turned her swivel chair back towards her desk, and continued counting the morning bank deposit.
"Do you have that, Zee?" she asks.
"Yes," I say and walk over to the chestnut counter, placing my tea underneath its top.
I smile pleasantly and ask, "How may I help you?"
"Can I have my keys? My daughter has taken my car, and she won't bring it back to me," she said to me.
She appeared sincere and then started to cry. I witnessed the tears running down the woman's face, a sadness came over me, and my heart began to ache. I needed some help.
"Barbie come over here, this lady needs her keys," I told her. Barbie, who is the motherly hen of the office, stands up. Her long brown hair catches against the back of her chair and laughs.
Barbie won't cut her hair ever; she promised her mother before she died, she would not cut it, and now it hangs to her knees, and if she is not careful, it catches on most things.
"Where is your daughter, Hun," Barbie asks.
She loved to call people Hun.
"Can you help get my car back," the old woman said through sobs of anguish.
Now all of us in distress, Sandra, too, came over to hear the story. After minutes of hearing how her daughter took the car from her, we were all shocked that a daughter might leave her mother stranded without transportation. Having witnessed worse events than this in our long careers, and none of us familiar with the very aged, we had no reason to doubt her story. In agreement, the three of us decided the police might better handle this matter. Barbie took her to the police department, which was just around the corner from our office; she returned, saying they would take care of it.
I am sure some of you reading this might realize by now that this woman was suffering from Alzheimer's. However, we did not clue into this fact. I guess it was because of her mental state, effecting our psychological dispositions, we felt only sorrow. She returned a couple of days later, though, still looking for her car. However, this time, followed inside by her daughter, the young woman apologized for her mother's behavior and then explained her mental condition.
Of course, it's sad to say, but we were all angry with the woman's daughter at first. Not having all the facts, we made the decision she was not a nice person, when in fact, she was only protecting her mother and others driving on the roads.
I sometimes wonder, if it were possible for us to return that woman's keys to her, and she caused an accident, would we have all felt terrible. I tell you this story because sometimes we want and pray for our desires, including not being in this epidemic, but regardless of how hard we try, it does not work.
That is how prayer to God is at times. So, we continue to ask over and over. "God, can you give me my keys, I am ready to drive now."
God knows, like the woman's daughter, if he gave us the car keys too early, we might hurt ourselves or others. Nevertheless, God does answer our prayers when we are patient. Keep believing regardless of what is going on around us.
1st John 5:14-15 (KJV) says, "And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask anything according to his will, he heareth us:15 And if we know that he hear us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that we desired of him."
This woman will probably never drive again, but nothing about her showed lack. God takes care of us while He keeps the keys locked away. Hold on, and don't stop praying and believing.
