Logan Airport
“Well, isn’t this a blessing. I had a feeling I’d see you again.”
Meredith glanced up from her notebook where she’d been feverishly jotting down ideas for her future, a future apart from Living Grace. The board might have taken away her job and her salary, but there were many other things that belonged solely to Meredith. Her network of Christian leaders across the country. Her contacts with influential donors who were using their financial blessings to advance God’s work throughout the world.
Even though Meredith’s primary goal had been and always would be to teach Scriptural truths to women, her time at Living Grace had also given her a crash course in organizational leadership that no MBA or advanced degree could offer.
Start a ministry for victims of sexual abuse. She stared at her notes, her numerous mind-maps, her lists of people she’d contact to recruit for her startup team. Maybe she’d even invite Connor to be involved.
She’d been so lost in her vision-casting and daydreaming that she was startled by the old woman’s voice. She looked up in surprise.
Grandma Lucy.
Meredith forced her brain to shift from planning for the future to focus on the present, and she returned Grandma Lucy’s wide smile.
“May I?” Grandma Lucy gestured to the empty seat beside her.
Meredith moved her carry-on to make room for the old woman.
“So, you’re flying to Detroit, then?” Grandma Lucy asked.
Meredith nodded. “I figured it’s either that or wait around here. And I’m ready to get home.” She felt the truth of her words the moment she spoke them. Home. Was there ever a sweeter sound to anyone’s ears?
Home. Not so she could nurse her wounds. Not so she could count the friends who had turned on her. Betrayed her. No.
Home. So she could plan. So she could give life to this idea that was visibly growing on the page before her.
“Is that your prayer journal?” Grandma Lucy asked.
Meredith realized she’d kept her book open. She flushed slightly and shut the cover. “Of sorts.”
Grandma Lucy reached out and grabbed her hand. The gesture was too familiar and quite unexpected, and yet somehow Meredith didn’t mind. In fact, the contact gave her comfort. Energy. Even more fuel for her newfound dreams. Who knew? Maybe she’d even invite Grandma Lucy to join her team of prayer support for her new endeavor.
“You know, I didn’t want to be too forward when we were talking earlier.” Grandma Lucy said. “But God’s just been putting something on my heart and won’t stop. So I told him if I saw you again, I’d be sure to bring it up, and even if not, I’d find your contact information from your website when I got home and write you.”
Meredith waited. What was it the old woman wanted to say?
In her time as a public figure in the Christian women’s ministry niche, Meredith had received several alleged prophesies from various individuals, like the Christian who mailed a letter so many years ago warning her not to travel anymore because she’d had a terrible nightmare about Meredith trapped inside the cabin of a burning airplane after it crashed. Another time someone wrote in to plead with Meredith to get a mammogram because God told them she would one day die of breast cancer. Which raised the obvious question: If she was going to die of the breast cancer anyway, what was so urgent about getting herself checked out?
But Meredith was up to date on her health checkups, and she’d flown hundreds of times now without incident. These kinds of warnings and so-called words of God just went with the territory of being in the public Christian eye. And most of the time, even though she never took their warnings to heart, she was able to extend grace to the speakers. Surely they meant well.
Most of them. With a few of the messages she’d received over the years, Meredith had a harder time being that gracious. Like the pastor’s wife who wrote an email to Living Grace Headquarters claiming that she’d seen a demon of lust clinging to Meredith’s back.
Or maybe it was her neck. Meredith couldn’t remember the finer details now.
Of course, some people didn’t need to have a spiritual excuse to just be plain old jerks. In Angie’s inbox sat three different canned responses ready to send to Christians, mostly men, who complained that it was sinful for a woman to teach the Bible. Of course, Meredith’s Bible studies were very obviously targeted to women, but that didn’t seem to matter. Twice in her career, the board even forced Meredith to get the Grand Rapids police involved when hate mail turned a little too personal. Meredith knew her friends were overreacting but appreciated the fact that they looked out for her best interests.
At least they had at one point.
Meredith was skeptical when Grandma Lucy told her she had a message for her, but she knew that the old woman’s heart was in the right place.
“After we met for tea,” Grandma Lucy began, “I just felt this burning need to pray for you. And not only for you, but for Living Grace as a ministry. I don’t know all the details, mind you, but I know I read somewhere in the news that you’ve taken some backlash for a few of your stances.”
Some backlash. That was one way to summarize Meredith’s relationship with her former board.
Grandma Lucy gave her hand another squeeze, stronger this time. “And I just wanted to tell you that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ. Because you are a child of the Most High God. You are blessed by the Almighty with your name written down in the Lamb’s book of life, with your forehead sealed with the symbol of God’s favor. You are blessed, you are anointed, and you are God’s chosen instrument to deliver his message to hurting women.”
Meredith sat perfectly still, wondering if she was supposed to close her eyes or not. It was hard to tell if Grandma Lucy was praying or speaking directly to her. In a way, she was doing both at the exact same time.
“And I know that your road hasn’t been easy,” she went on. “The pathway of God’s chosen servants is riddled with thorns and briars, but he is the God who lifts you up out of the miry clay and places your feet on a firm place to stand. He is the God who shields you with his protection so that the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night. The Lord will keep you from all harm, both now and forever. He will watch over your coming and your going. He will shelter you with his love and carry you under his wings.”
Now Meredith had an even harder time articulating what exactly it was that Grandma Lucy was doing. Was she preaching at her? Reciting Bible verses?
What she couldn’t ignore, however, was the pounding in her chest, the swell of conviction and hope in her spirit.
“Heavenly Father,” Grandma Lucy continued, this time addressing God directly, “I lift up my precious and anointed sister to you. I pray blessings to rain down on her head. I pray that whatever she touches will succeed. I pray that you will expand her territory, increase her ministry, and protect her from all harm. It’s your Holy Word that says not even a sparrow falls to the ground apart from your will, that we are fearfully and wonderfully made to do good works, which you created in advance for us to do. It’s your Holy Word that describes the deep love you lavish on us, calling us your children even though we are so unworthy.”
Meredith didn’t know if she wanted to cry or raise her hands up in the air and begin singing praises. How long had it been since she’d experienced the presence of the Holy Spirit like this? How many years had she spent teaching people about God’s love and power without ever reaching out and grasping it herself? Had she gotten so busy, so caught up in teaching others that she’d neglected her own spiritual health?
Grandma Lucy wasn’t close to slowing down. Meredith was vaguely aware of a few strange stares as the old woman’s voice grew in volume and intensity, but she wasn’t about to tell Grandma Lucy to quiet down. In fact, Meredith had a pretty good feeling that if she said anything right now, Grandma Lucy was too absorbed in her prayer to hear.
“It’s your Holy Word that says you will restore the years the locusts have eaten. It’s your Holy Word that promises all things work together for the good of those who love you, who are called according to your purpose.”
Meredith wondered if the entire snowstorm happened for this one precise moment. If she couldn’t get to Grand Rapids because God knew she needed this right here, right now — this inspiration pouring into her spirit, breathing life into her soul that had grown so weary.
“It’s your Holy Word,” Grandma Lucy proclaimed, “that compels us to come to you and cast our cares upon you, and that’s exactly what we do, dear Lord. We cast our burdens down at your feet, praying they will be an acceptable and pleasing offering to you. We surrender our souls, our bodies, our very lives to you and your service, and we know that you are the God who promises to never leave us nor forsake us. You are the God who declares, When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.” Grandma Lucy gave a slight gasp and let go of Meredith’s hand.
Meredith wasn’t sure what had happened. Why had Grandma Lucy stopped? Why was she staring at her like that?
“Did you say you have a seat on this flight?” Grandma Lucy demanded, as if she had no idea that she’d spent the past ten minutes boldly praying, breathing life and conviction into Meredith’s battle-weary soul.
Meredith stared at her in confusion.
“Flight 219?” Grandma Lucy pressed. “Headed to Detroit?”
“Yes.” Meredith leaned forward, trying to determine if the old woman was all right. Had her skin always looked so pale?
Grandma Lucy’s voice, which had a moment earlier carried more hope and conviction than Meredith had experienced in all her years of ministry combined, was now faint and trembling.
“Dear Jesus,” the old woman whispered, “Let this cup of trouble pass or we will all be lost.”