Storms Are For Sisters

Posted by Alan Scott on Apr 29, 2010 in Daily Bread | 6 comments

There are thunderstorm warnings for Cobb county today. Winds are blowing. Hail and rain are attacking as I’m writing. How should you pray in a storm? Consider this story of my younger sister, Lynn.

When Lynn was 17, she married a guy by the name of Joe Bennett.  Joe was a charismatic evangelist. He was a traveling singer/preacher who traveled the country.  My parents gave my under-aged sister their approval to marry Joe because, in their words, "He’s such a good guy.  He’s good.  He’s Godly.  Yes, yes, yes… get married!"  They did. 

Joe and Lynn’s first year of marriage was spent traveling from coast to coast doing revivals, concerts, preaching, and whatever they could to make ends meet.  About three months into the marriage, they were driving across the plains of Kansas when their van and trailer hit a vicious cross wind.  Everything was wiped out.  All equipment, clothes, and belongings were lost in a tailwind of bad insurance. 

Eight months into their very young marriage, a squall blew in, and an unfortunate miscarriage was battled through. On the one-year anniversary of Lynn and Joe’s whirlwind marriage, our family got information about Joe contracting a very serious blood disorder called A-plastic Anemia.  My sister had just turned 18.  

A-plastic Anemia is a devastating blood disease with platelet counts so low the blood can’t coagulate any longer.  White cells are depleted, and immune systems go completely south.  You can’t cut yourself shaving or catch a common cold without the very real threat of dying.  

Joe courageously dealt with A-plastic Anemia for another full year.  He was in and out of the hospital with blood transfusions, platelet transfusions, and a desperate bone marrow transplant. At the end of that very trying year, Joe died.  He was 26, and my younger sister was 19.  She was a widow at 19.  That thought can still stop me dead in my tracks.

This was all quite a wild ride for my entire family.  The funeral was touted as a victory celebration.  Joe’s dad preached the funeral sermon.  His mom played the piano, while Joe’s grandfather somehow managed to lead on the organ.  Grand old hymns like "Onward Christian Soldiers" were sung with a spiritual determination.

We buried the lifeless shell of Joe in the afternoon. That evening several friends and family members drove 20 minutes to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware.  The water and boardwalk there were one of Joe and Lynn’s favorite spots to refresh.  As several walked down to the beach, we were greeted with a bright, red sun sinking slowly into the ocean depths.  Somebody said out loud, "Come now, Lord Jesus.  We’re ready.  We’re tired.  Just come."  

After an extremely pregnant and awkward pause, somebody rightfully said, "Why don’t we pray?" We circled up and prayed.  We held hands and I started the left-to-right prayer circle.  Everybody prayed really short prayers.  They were nervous prayers like when you just don’t have words to say.  It just so happened that my sister was the last to pray.   I will never forget her prayer.  In a whisper barely heard over the crashing waves, Lynn prayed, "Thanks for Jesus. How does anybody make it without Him?"  

If you’re in a storm, what will you do? How will you pray?  If you’re in a storm, my sister would, with penetrating maturity, look you squarely in the eyes and ask, "How are you going to make it?"  How ARE you going to make it?  How will you resolve to replace fear with faith? Will your prayers reflect trust and acknowledgement when winds blow and the hail and rain attack?