JOY IN THE NIGHT

By Martha Wolowicz

            "What is it, Lord.  What do you want me to do?"

            "Obedience, my child.  I want you to take your children and move into that mobile home you looked at last week. I will take care of you.  I want you to trust me."

            "No, Lord, I don't want to. It's so little.  Isn't it enough that I am both mother and father to my three children now?  Do I have to live there?  There's not enough room, and the area is so scary. Wouldn't it be dangerous for us?  Are you really asking that of me, Lord?"

            That was my communication with the Lord when I was faced with finding housing for my family.  My relationship with him was more childish than mature at that time, and my obedience was often based on my feelings, not the Lord's. This time I was not happy with his arrangements.  I didn’t know the joy he had for us all.

            The day we moved into our tiny mobile home, all I saw and felt were the clumps of mud, steady drizzle, oppressive heat, and my children’s dejected looks.  As my son, Jay, 16, and two daughters, Julie 13 and Jennifer 8, moved their possessions in, they barely contained their frustration.  They didn’t want to leave their comfortable home any more than I did, but with my 22-year marriage ending because of my husband’s indiscretions, and the resulting drastic change in our financial situation, we had no choice.

            The living room and kitchen were distinguishable only by the stain on the carpet which divided the living room from the kitchen, and was complimented by a chunk of linoleum missing from the kitchen floor.  The water heater was a relic.  By the end of the first day, I realized the pilot light went out each time the wind blew, and to re-light it was a heroic effort on my part.

            As there were only two bedrooms, I gave my children bedroom rights.  Julie and Jennifer scrambled to gain control of the front bedroom which was only a bit larger than the closet-size bedroom in the back left to Jay.  The living room became my bedroom and each night I converted the couch to a comfortable bed with my overstuffed pillows and thick comforter. As long as my radio was on the table next to me, I knew at the end of the day before allowing sleep to take over, I would have the familiarity of my favorite Christian radio program, even though I had to watch the volume because of the paper-thin wall that separated the girls’ bedroom from mine.

            As we laboriously crammed our belongings into place, we found the table lamps offered more warmth and cut the glare of the ceiling light, and the curtains I put up to keep us secure in our little world added to the coziness of the room.  Pictures and familiar knick-knacks rounded out our sanctuary, and our spirits turned upward.

             After a few weeks, our little home became familiar and comfortable, and I was becoming more positive, that is, until I made a startling discovery:  the teenage boy living next door was dealing drugs, and all types of humanity paraded between our homes night and day.

            "Can you actually want us to live in this environment, Lord?" I asked, and took back all those burdens again. But, even though I must have tried the Lord's patience, he continued to be faithful.  By degrees, as the Lord orchestrated each day, the drug traffic next door seemed to lessen, and the young man eventually moved.

            Eventually, despite all the circumstances, the oppressing heat filtering through the thin outer walls in the summer and the icy wind gusts in the winter, life seemed to settle into some sort of normalcy. Our family began to establish routines.  Routine is good if it's a positive routine. I wasn't so sure how positive my teenage daughter Julie’s routine had become.  She came and went in a flurry of activity, such a flurry that I couldn’t keep up with her or the friends she was making. I had to be a master strategist to keep some kind of control.  "I'm fine, Mom," she reassured me.  "I can take care of myself.  No need to worry."  

            As a single parent I did worry. Though we faithfully continued to attend church together, my children, who’d heard the Gospel all their lives, seemed uncommitted.  Although they were good kids, I knew they were vulnerable to peer pressure.  I also worried that our change in lifestyle and the loss of their father would make them angry and distant from God.  I worried about Julie and the hours she spent away from home; I worried about my son Jay’s responsibilities as a senior in high school, and I worried about Jennie, my youngest.  She was a sensitive child and her new family situation was difficult for her.  I strained to keep control, but control often seemed to be an illusive object slipping out of my hands the more I reached for it.   

            Often I couldn’t see beyond the dismal situation of being a single parent and having to work full-time while meeting the emotional needs of my children.  There were times when I focused on my problems, not on the Lord who promised to see us through the problems.  I read and reread Proverbs 3 verses 5 and 6, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” -- I had to admit trusting the Lord was easier when things were going my way.  When I felt the loss of control, I was often unable to rest in the Lord and trust Him as I knew I should.

            Then came the day when I realized that for every significant problem we faced, a solution to that problem was forthcoming. "Is that your work, Lord?" I asked with a smile as it was apparent that his loving control was gradually transforming our lives to accept  our situation.  Our little mobile home was becoming a full-fledged home. I was hardly aware of the stain on the carpet anymore, or the missing linoleum -- I even became the master over the water heater.  

            My spiritual maturity was growing as I depended more on strength from the Lord.

And it was due in large measure by my inspirational radio program that touched my heart  as it offered me a continual reaffirmation of the Lord's love and protection.  At night before falling asleep, the message of the Lord Jesus filled me with peace after a busy day of being both mother, father, and provider to my children.  It became my daily link to the Lord.

            Almost two years after moving into our mobile home, late one night I snuggled into my comforter, adjusted my pillows, turned on my radio and prepared to hear the familiar words and music of my program.  As I listened, the clear message of salvation went out to the vast, unseen listening audience.  God’s peace and comfort drifted over me, and by the time the program ended, I had shed my worries and cares once again.  I began to drift off to sleep, when I heard a muffled sound at the foot of my couch.  As I opened my eyes straining to see through the darkness, I saw the silhouette of my 15 year old daughter standing in front of me. 

            Julie was quietly weeping.  I didn’t know if her tears were tears of sadness or fear,  until her words flooded out. “Mom, I heard your radio program again tonight through the wall, and it seemed Jesus was talking just to me.” 

            As I switched on the dim light, I saw a peace and happiness on her tear-stained face that had not been there before.  “I know Jesus has forgiven me for all the things I’ve done wrong.  I told him I wanted him in my heart to be my savior.  I told him that I

wanted him to be with me always.  Mom, I could just feel his love for me.  It’s so wonderful!  And, you know, when I asked him into my heart, I felt tingles all the way from my head to my toes.”

            What joy!  Despite my grumbling, despite my struggles with trust and faith, the Lord had worked out His plan -- through the move to this tiny mobile home, through the thin wall which carried His Word into my daughter’s heart, He had worked out His plan, working out for good the things we thought were so bad.  What a testament of His love and faithfulness.

            The cramped, dreary quarters of our little home suddenly became beautiful as I held my daughter close and wept for joy.  The Lord had brought an unexpected blessing, and I’d learned a valuable lesson in faith and trust.  Since that time, I often thank Him for the miracle in our mobile home, and I look forward to seeing what else He will do in our lives wherever we are.  His ways are not our ways -- they are so much better.  The Lord took our difficult times and turned them into blessings --

                        Romans 8:28  (NIV)  "And we know that in all things

                        God works for the good of those who love him, who

                        have been called according to his purpose.” 

I learned that in obedience is peace; in submission is growth; and in faith is the assurance of the Lord’s continual faithfulness.