When Hurricane Katrina hit the south I was profoundly moved. I sat on my kitchen stool for hours, staring at the horrible footage, aching to bring love to the enormous wound and the people there. It felt personal.
One day our associate pastor announced he was taking a van of supplies to Louisiana and looking for volunteers. I knew I had to be on that van, but I had responsibilities for my family. My youngest was three and I was still homeschooling my middle son. How could I leave? I subdued the concerns of my routine and listened to the voice within.
One fear persisted: the drive. It would be 1,200 miles driven only by the two members permitted to operate the church van. Anxiety kept me alert both ways, watching and praying. At that season in my life, my prayers of thanksgiving often included bouquets of pink roses, I would imagine sending heavenward to God. As we traveled the highways home after our mission, I calmed my fears with prayer, envisioning a sky-full of pink gratitude for Him upon our safe arrival to town.
We pulled into our last rest stop a couple hours from New Jersey. The ladies room was empty. I entered the third stall and turned to shut the door. On the hook hung a bouquet of pink roses. I mustn’t save up gratitude for earthly proof. He is traveling with me always.
Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Philippians 4:5
Meeting God at the Park 