Allan arrived home after work that evening feeling a little tense. Michele seemed to be doing better when he’d left her in the parking lot of the doctor’s office, but he wondered what kind of shape she’d be in after having all afternoon with nothing to do but think. Then there was his concern about Ray in the hospital. On the car ride home, he’d spoken to Julie. Ray was asleep, thanks to some heavy sedation. Allan had guessed right about the surgery. She’d mentioned they had scheduled an operation on his leg for tomorrow morning.
After setting his things down, he walked into the kitchen. Worship music was playing in the background. That was nice. Whatever she had going on in the oven smelled wonderful. He didn’t see her downstairs, so he walked to the stairwell. “I’m home, hon. You up there?”
“I’ll be right down.”
He walked back into the kitchen to get some ice water out of the fridge. That’s when he noticed a number of Scriptures handwritten on index cards, mounted with magnets to the freezer door. They hadn’t been there that morning when he’d left for work. Curious, he read each one.
God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. (James 4:6)
Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 5:3)
Apart from me you can do nothing. (John 15:5)
Clothe yourselves with humility toward one another. (1 Peter 5:5)
“I wonder what brought this on,” he said quietly. He poured the water, rereading the Scriptures. Clearly, humility was the prevailing theme. That, and needing God’s help. Nothing wrong with that, he thought. Still, he didn’t know what to expect as she came down the stairs.
Michele almost bumped into him when she stepped into the kitchen. “Oh, there you are.” She reached her arms around his waist and gave him a hug. “So glad you’re home.”
This wasn’t the greeting he’d expected. “You seem . . . upbeat.”
“I am.” She turned the oven light on and bent down to check her dish’s progress. “Looking good. Maybe another ten minutes.” She turned the light off, grabbed his hand, and began tugging him toward the living room.
“What’s for dinner? The smell’s killing me.”
“Meat loaf.”
She made the best meat loaf. Because she did, he never ordered it in restaurants anymore. She sat on the couch, so he sat next to her. “What’s going on? I was thinking that since your doctor visit didn’t turn out so well, you might be kind of down.”
“I was. In fact, I was pretty much a wreck right after. Jean came over, and even she couldn’t cheer me up.”
“Obviously something did. And I want to hear it. But first, tell me what the doctor said.”
So she did. And it was discouraging. The more she explained, the more discouraged he became. The process the doctor had described seemed like it could go on for months and months, if not years. Costing thousands, maybe tens of thousands of dollars. She also shared the tidbit about Jean’s cousin adopting a little girl, and how much that cost. What he’d heard was right: almost twenty-five-thousand dollars.
What a racket, he thought, but didn’t say it. He didn’t want to diminish the unusual joy she seemed to be experiencing. But a new concern began to build in his mind as she talked. About money. About how much discretionary cash they had each month after expenses. So far in their marriage, he’d been able to assign a decent portion of this to his mission activities. With Michele’s permission. From what he was hearing, this would have to stop when they began pursuing these infertility solutions.
He found his anticipation growing to hear about whatever was responsible for her positive outlook. He could use a sip of whatever she was drinking.
She finished her update with, “Now, that’s the bad news.”
“Yeah, that’s . . . pretty bad. But you’re doing way better than you should be after sharing all that.”
“I know, it’s weird, isn’t it?”
Weird was one way to describe it. “I’m guessing it has something to do with those index cards on the freezer door?”
“You saw them? Good. Yes. Isn’t it wonderful? I learned something today about humility. Something I never knew before. Maybe I never really understood humility. But after the things I read, my outlook completely changed.”
“So, what did you read?”
She leaned across the couch and picked up a notebook sitting on an end table. Allan had seen it around the last few days.
“Isn’t that the notebook Julie gave you?”
She opened it on her lap. “It is. I’ve been reading it every morning this past week. After I got home from the doctor’s, I was a mess. Totally deflated.”
Probably like I am now, Allan thought.
“Jean came over for coffee, and we talked. But that didn’t really help. The whole situation seemed so big and out of my control. I felt helpless. I couldn’t imagine how we could ever get all that money together. And even if we did, there are no guarantees I’ll get pregnant after we spend it.”
“So you don’t want to pursue this infertility thing anymore?”
“No, that’s not it. I still do.”
“Then I’m not getting where you’re going here.”
“Jean said something about being helpless, that it’s not always a bad place to be. Then I remembered something I read a few days ago in this notebook. It says when you’re helpless and you know you don’t have what it takes to make your situation work, it’s kind of a gift. That’s where humility comes in. Humility’s all about realizing how much we need God’s help. According to this, we turn to God as a last resort, only after we’ve tried everything else we can do ourselves. But the truth is, we need him all the time, we just don’t realize it. As long as we think we can handle our problems, that’s what we do. We handle them, or at least we try. We don’t trust God. We don’t even turn to him. We just . . . try to figure it out on our own. Then a trial like this comes along, and we find out just how helpless we really are. It’s so big, it overwhelms us. We realize we can’t fix it no matter how hard we try.”
This was actually making sense.
“All Jean and I did was pray. We surrendered the whole thing to God and said, ‘Lord, this is too big for us to carry. We need your help. We need to know what you want us to do. Please take away all this fear and anxiety.’ And he did. I have no idea how this is gonna work out. Where the money’s going to come from, but that’s okay. According to this notebook—well, the Scriptures in here about humility—my part is simple. Humble yourself.”
Allan looked down at the notebook, which had suddenly increased in value. “I’ve read a lot of things about humility. But I think I’ve learned more from what you just said than from anything I’ve read.”
“Isn’t it simple? It’s like, after seeing it broken down this way for children, the lights came on for me. God’s not expecting me to do big things for him or try to impress him with my great faith. He wants me to depend on him . . . for everything. And if you think about it, that’s exactly how Jesus lived in the Gospels. Totally dependent on the Father.”
“So why all the index cards on the fridge?”
“I guess the idea is memorizing Scripture. This chapter on humility says our minds drift through thousands of thoughts each day. Many of them draw us away into doubt and fear. Our minds need something better to hold on to. So the author suggests putting Scriptures together that speak about the very thing you need the most help with. Well, we’re supposed to teach kids to do this, but he says adults need it just as much. One of the ideas for helping you memorize them was writing them down on little cards. So that’s what I did.”
Allan reached for her hand. “I’m really proud of you, hon. I expected to come home and find you totally down and depressed. But look at you. I’m actually encouraged. How about you and I pray like you and Jean did, then we’ll get up and eat that incredible meat loaf.”