It was an early morning opportunity for answered prayer and so much more

I was sitting in the rocking chair journaling my request to God.

“Father, I would like to do the writer’s retreat this weekend, but I need to ask Steve. Please help me find the time.”

I had wanted to ask him in person, but it was 4:30 in the morning. On Friday. Before a Saturday morning event. I would be leaving in an hour for the gym and work and not returning until evening. In addition, I had a special, limited-time offer to attend.

Would I get the chance to ask him in time to register?

While my husband often awakens (insomniac that he is) during my early morning quiet time, it’s usually for a brief foray into the kitchen and to aggravate me so much I beg to go to work.

(He perfects this on Sundays so I’m looking forward to Monday, the start of a new workweek.)

Steve takes great joy in sneaking up behind me as I’m engrossed in my reading or writing or otherwise annoying me as he goes about his business, for example, opening squeaky cabinet doors as slowly as he can. On repeat.

Or, better, he stands behind me and massages my shoulders, but makes the sneak reach to, well, the front of me often enough that I can’t really relax to enjoy the back massage.

But to have a genuine conversation at 4:30 a.m.? What were the chances?

And so, I wrote my prayer, interrupted when Steve appeared beside me to ask me a question, and then, as I responded, he laid on the couch across from me, perhaps to stress how loonnngggg my answer was. As if the burden of listening was so laborious, he had to rest.

(He also flashed open his robe at intervals, so it took me even longer to get my thoughts into spoken words.)

But when I stopped answering and he remained encamped and quiet, I returned my attention to my journaling.

“Father…”

“Um, Sara? Steve is right there now,” I could almost hear my ever-patient God’s incredulous voice above the scratching of my ink pen. “Prayer answered. Why are you waiting?”

Duh.

He’s right there

I had written this intro a month or so ago and added “he’s right there” as the working title, unsure where this story might go but sensing I should capture the moment.

Fast forward to today. When on a long flight from Florida to California, I determined to complete three 45-minute writing sprints.

Why not start by finishing a blog I’d started? Which one should I choose?

I opened my long list of drafts on my phone and saw my working title, “he’s right there.” The title triggered not my silly failure to recognize an immediate answer to prayer that previous morning, but, instead, the thought, “God is right there.”

Here. Now.

The Bible tells us “the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.” Indeed, God says, “Because he loves me, …I will be with him,” and “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Joshua 1:9, Psalm 91:14-15, and Hebrews 13:5, ESV).

And, I am reminded, the angel of the Lord who appeared to Joseph told him the child Mary would bear would be called Immanuel, which means “God with us.”

God is right here

And while he’s not flashing His robe open in a suggestive manner, He is giving me intimate glimpses of who He is.

While He isn’t opening a squeaky door repeatedly or sneaking up behind me to scare me, He does want (and deserve) my attention. (As does my dear husband, I know.)

And though I would welcome a holy massage (can you imagine?), I am aware of His hand on my life if not my shoulders. And I can relax in His presence.

And write with Him during these 45-minute sprints.

Just as I had during that writing retreat I attended many Saturdays ago.

Because I took advantage of my loving husband’s presence and asked. His answer was as immediate as God’s was that morning.

“Yes.”

And with that response, he went back to bed. But my loving God stayed “right there” with me. Then. Now. And always.

He is right here. God with us. You and me.

Nothing comforts me more. I hope it comforts you, too.