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Authors: Robin Jones Gunn
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arrive.”
Nothing makes a woman feel old and young at the same time like trying to outfit her improvised tree house by hauling a mattress up a flight of narrow stairs.
Once we managed to heave both mattresses onto the rooftop, I stood back and caught my breath. The evening air swirled with the scent of salt air and garlic. Accordion music floated our way from one of the alleyways where I could picture an aspiring musician playing his or her heart out for locals who were making their evening commute on foot.
Sue went back to the linen closet for sheets while I arranged the mattresses.
High above me the sun blazed its own trail home with less gusto than had accompanied its noonday romp. This steady companion of summer days on the Adriatic Sea willingly bowed to the saucy smile of a moon that had showed up early for work. The quarter moon hung back, diminished in the dusky blue sky, knowing her job was to wait on the slow-moving sun. Her time would come.
“How’s it going?” Sue poked her head up through the opening to our rooftop roost.
“Good. I was watching the moon.”
Sue joined me with her arms full of linens. “It’s beautiful.”
Together we went to work, covering the mattresses with the sheets and blankets, and then stood back to admire our Bohemian hideaway.
“We’re really going to do this. We’re going to sleep outside,” Sue said with an eager grin.
“I know. Either we’re really crazy or really cool.”
“Or both!”
I thought if this didn’t prove Sue and I were Sisterchicks, I didn’t know what would.
“Do you feel like praying?” I asked.
“Praying?”
I nodded. “We should pray for the men while they’re on their way here and pray for our children and—”
“You go ahead. I need to check on things in the kitchen.” Sue quickly disappeared down the rabbit hole. I stood alone under the rising moon and offered up my evening prayers.
Praying by myself wasn’t uncommon. As a matter of fact, it was familiar. I thought about the way I’d prayed when Gerry walked out. Callie was only a few months old. I had held her and cried and prayed all that night. While I prayed, a thin curl of the new moon rose in the sky, bringing a faint, persistent comfort into the room.
God didn’t answer any of my prayers that night theway I wanted Him to. He didn’t give me any of the solutions I begged and bargained for. All God gave me was Himself. His presence. And even though I didn’t recognize it at the time, the grace of His presence was sufficient. His abiding Spirit was like the moon. A sliver of comfort and light rising even on the darkest night.
This night, on the Venetian rooftop, His presence was more than sufficient. He filled heaven and earth. He was here. He had never left me. Over all the years, as my circumstances changed, the only constant and unchanging truth was that God was with me.
I stood in awe and whispered, “Thank You.” When I returned to the kitchen, Sue said she had everything ready and suggested we place the pasta in the water when the men arrived. She wasn’t looking directly at me as she spoke.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I wasn’t sure, when I asked you to pray and then you left, if that meant—”
“I’m just not where you are in your way of talking to God, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want you to push me into the deep end, if you understand what I’m saying.”
“I think I do.”
“You know how you asked me to tell you if you’rebeing pushy? Well, just let me, you know, find my place. Get my balance. Everything is coming at me so intensely and …”
I nodded and offered her a comforting smile. “Okay. I understand.”
A buzzer sounded, and we looked around.
“Did you set an alarm on the stove?”
“No.” Sue looked around the kitchen. “It’s not a fire alarm, is it?”
The buzzer sounded again. It stopped and then sounded again, this time longer.
“The doorbell!” we figured out in unison.
“I’ll
Nothing makes a woman feel old and young at the same time like trying to outfit her improvised tree house by hauling a mattress up a flight of narrow stairs.
Once we managed to heave both mattresses onto the rooftop, I stood back and caught my breath. The evening air swirled with the scent of salt air and garlic. Accordion music floated our way from one of the alleyways where I could picture an aspiring musician playing his or her heart out for locals who were making their evening commute on foot.
Sue went back to the linen closet for sheets while I arranged the mattresses.
High above me the sun blazed its own trail home with less gusto than had accompanied its noonday romp. This steady companion of summer days on the Adriatic Sea willingly bowed to the saucy smile of a moon that had showed up early for work. The quarter moon hung back, diminished in the dusky blue sky, knowing her job was to wait on the slow-moving sun. Her time would come.
“How’s it going?” Sue poked her head up through the opening to our rooftop roost.
“Good. I was watching the moon.”
Sue joined me with her arms full of linens. “It’s beautiful.”
Together we went to work, covering the mattresses with the sheets and blankets, and then stood back to admire our Bohemian hideaway.
“We’re really going to do this. We’re going to sleep outside,” Sue said with an eager grin.
“I know. Either we’re really crazy or really cool.”
“Or both!”
I thought if this didn’t prove Sue and I were Sisterchicks, I didn’t know what would.
“Do you feel like praying?” I asked.
“Praying?”
I nodded. “We should pray for the men while they’re on their way here and pray for our children and—”
“You go ahead. I need to check on things in the kitchen.” Sue quickly disappeared down the rabbit hole. I stood alone under the rising moon and offered up my evening prayers.
Praying by myself wasn’t uncommon. As a matter of fact, it was familiar. I thought about the way I’d prayed when Gerry walked out. Callie was only a few months old. I had held her and cried and prayed all that night. While I prayed, a thin curl of the new moon rose in the sky, bringing a faint, persistent comfort into the room.
God didn’t answer any of my prayers that night theway I wanted Him to. He didn’t give me any of the solutions I begged and bargained for. All God gave me was Himself. His presence. And even though I didn’t recognize it at the time, the grace of His presence was sufficient. His abiding Spirit was like the moon. A sliver of comfort and light rising even on the darkest night.
This night, on the Venetian rooftop, His presence was more than sufficient. He filled heaven and earth. He was here. He had never left me. Over all the years, as my circumstances changed, the only constant and unchanging truth was that God was with me.
I stood in awe and whispered, “Thank You.” When I returned to the kitchen, Sue said she had everything ready and suggested we place the pasta in the water when the men arrived. She wasn’t looking directly at me as she spoke.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She nodded.
“I wasn’t sure, when I asked you to pray and then you left, if that meant—”
“I’m just not where you are in your way of talking to God, okay?”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want you to push me into the deep end, if you understand what I’m saying.”
“I think I do.”
“You know how you asked me to tell you if you’rebeing pushy? Well, just let me, you know, find my place. Get my balance. Everything is coming at me so intensely and …”
I nodded and offered her a comforting smile. “Okay. I understand.”
A buzzer sounded, and we looked around.
“Did you set an alarm on the stove?”
“No.” Sue looked around the kitchen. “It’s not a fire alarm, is it?”
The buzzer sounded again. It stopped and then sounded again, this time longer.
“The doorbell!” we figured out in unison.
“I’ll
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