Epiphany at the Park

Ephiphany at the Park
By: Linda DePeel (c.)2009

I left church, and walked the 1-1/2 blocks to my sister's house. No one was home. I wasn't surprised. Why should I be? People with money don't just sit at home--well not all of them anyway. For some reason, I felt so bereft. I didn't want to be alone. But everybody else was doing their thing, and for the first time in ages, I wished I owned a vehicle. But--if wishes were horses, beggars would ride, right?

I walked another couple of blocks to the park, and sat down at a picnic table. The sun had been out just moments ago, and now it was clouding over again. The wind was blowing harder now, and I shivered. And this sad feeling lingered. Good grief! I told myself. Get hold of yourself! You don't have the time and energy to spend on a pity party for one! I sat, watching some teenagers, strolling through the park, dressed in bicycle shorts and hoodies. Brrr! Getting older.

After they had gone on, I gazed up at the steely gray sky, with the ominous silvery clouds. "Why, God?" I asked softly. "Why am I here? What did I do wrong?" No answer. "Oh, Lord, I would give anything if I could just turn back the clock, back to last year. I was taking care of my mother, and You just don't know how much I miss her, those blasted cats, especially my Baby Serena, and that old run-down house. I should've bought it when I had the chance. I shouldn't have listened to anyone, and I didn't trust you. Now I'm in the pit, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to dig myself out of it!"

That's the problem. You were so busy listening to everyone's advice, everyone's opinion, taking them to heart. You didn't believe and trust me. Yes, you asked Me about what to do, but then you never gave Me a chance to answer you. You went on your own merry way, and now you're hurting. I'm so sorry, child! Now trust Me fully. Stop listening to all these pieces of advice and every opinion. When you come to me in faith, believing that I know best, your life will be better."

Oh, God, forgive my unbelief! Show me what to do, and in the meantime, let me do what I'm supposed to be doing until you call my name.

Go back home, child. Think about Me, and believe. Believe.

I dried my eyes and made the short trip home.