Bursts of light. That’s how I described the clouded winter canopy, as I scribbled my thoughts on paper Friday morning. I woke up early to the soft tapping of rain and cozily sat beside our balcony door, gazing at the dark clouds dancing in the wind, sweeping gracefully along the skyline. While most Seattle mornings consist of a thick grey mass overhead, these fluffy and airy puffs of white moved along swiftly, hurrying to and fro. Pockets of light glittered in the dawn sky, as the clouds flew along freely. This morning was different, I could tell. Change was taking place—there was movement in the sky, and it was fantastic and beautiful to watch.
In the days leading up to Friday last week, I felt overwhelmed, trapped and scared. Each of the weeks prior had brought news of immense hardship from family and friends. In shouldering this pain, along with our sense of security breached from recent theft, I was emotionally and physically raw. Then came the news about Ken’s biggest scholarship. We lost it—the money wouldn’t be coming, and evidently, that loss started a chain reaction of withheld funding. I didn’t understand what happened and neither did Ken. We were scared of what that meant for us. In haste, I restructured our entire budget and went into “survival mode” for a few days. No extra expenses. No extra giving. We had to buckle down and do it quickly. Last Monday, being in a place of fear and helplessness, I decided to start praying. Ken and I both did. Together. Separate. With others. I also started fasting. I gave up my need for comfort and security. Tangibly, I decided that I would fast desserts and sweets for the next month, until Christmas, so that every time I reached for physical comfort and satisfaction in dessert I would be reminded that instead, I needed to go to God in fulfilling my deeper longings. If you’re wondering what fasting has been like, it’s hard. Especially so, if you give up something that constantly vies for first place in your life. Food is like that for me. I go there first for comfort, and find immense pleasure in its constant companionship. That’s how I know it’s dangerous, and worth swapping out for more directed prayer time.
Besides our own attempts to meet with school advisers, counselors and administration officers, we asked our families, close friends and community group to pray for us. It was awesome. I felt genuinely supported and loved by the ladies in my Stephen Ministry group. They came alongside me, cried with me, and prayed for us. That God would give us hope, when it seemed so very distant.
We received our first ‘burst of light’ on Wednesday afternoon, when we met the sweetest, 60-year-old African-American lady, who works at the school office. She reminds me of my grandma—witty, sweet and fiercely persistent. I’ll call her “Frannie.” Frannie listened attentively to our story and how we were shocked that we didn't receive Ken’s engineering scholarship, especially when it was promised to us. She nodded often and focused on every word we shared. Frannie wanted to help us, it was obvious, and she told us that. She directed us to the next person we would need to talk to, a lady in the finance department who wouldn't be back in the office until the next day. We thanked her and said that we’d be back. Thursday, around 10 a.m., we returned to the finance department and were met with a big smile from Frannie. She welcomed us in and walked us to the financial lady who she thought would be able to help us. After 20 minutes, it was clear that the lady we were meeting with couldn't do anything. Something about how her hands were tied until the scholarship’s coding was changed. Without that electronic revision, no one could help us. She seemed quick to hurry us out of her office and directed us to yet another person.
At this point, Ken and I were disappointed and frustrated. Our time felt wasted. We started to wonder what the next person would say, and the next…How many times would we get the “run-around”, we wondered. But Frannie wouldn't let us despair. She saw our frowns, as we walked toward the door. She grabbed our attention by saying, “You don’t give up, you hear? You need to march into that department and believe that you are going to get that scholarship. You have to be optimistic.” And that was our ray of our hope. Frannie believed that change was possible and she was willing to rally for us. Ken and I turned to each other, encouraged, and ready for the next obstacle.
That Thursday afternoon, Ken knocked on doors and waited to meet with the department facilitators who would be able to help us. He made phone calls and was persistent in sharing his story. The next person he met with had to call another person, and then that person helped the first person change the computer coding. It’s a long, drawn-out process and I’ll spare you any more details. The praise is that Friday morning, the change was finalized. We would get our money. In just a few days, everything changed—for the better.
In reflecting over last week’s challenges, I am reminded of a story I’ve heard many times. It’s a story about a widow and a judge. The widow was a woman who by society’s views was quite helpless and perhaps fearful. She had an adversary and wanted justice for their wrongdoings. So she sought the help of the judge. The judge didn’t care about the widow and refused to help her day after day. But the widow, in persistence, would not give up. She kept seeking justice, with fierce determination. Finally, the judge granted her justice because he did not want her continual plea to wear him out. This story intrigues me. It speaks of a world that I am not entirely familiar with. A realm where persistence in prayer and bringing our requests before the Lord is honored. Faith, despite all odds, is commanded. On these words, I stand completely convicted and humbled. I want the faith and persistence of this widow. At the same time, I feel incredibly blessed with the series of events I’ve been privy to enter into lately. It is through these experiences, where I cannot make things happen on my own, that God is able to work. I’m giving him the space that’s rightfully His.
I treasure Frannie’s words to us last week. She reminded Ken and me of our call to be people of hope and faith. To never give up. Thank you, Frannie. This blog is dedicated to you, and the spark of hope that ignited our faith that God was working in our situation, even it when felt most bleak.
Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?” John 11:40
